Greensleeves
by ScopesMonkey
Summary: Bashir wakes up one morning to a galaxy without Jem'Hadar, Founders, the Dominion, or the war. And he has no memory of things ever being otherwise.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note_: The story is set near the end of the sixth season. Dax is Jadzia Dax, by the way.

_Disclaimer:_ Paramount own Star Trek and everything legally associated with it. I own any original characters, situations, or locations. I am not making any money off of this.

* * *

1

Julian Bashir awoke to the sound of someone crying. With a groan, he rubbed his eyes, shifting onto his back in his bed.

"Want me to get her?", Dax mumbled, half asleep, from beside him.

"No," Bashir muttered, "It's my turn."

He dragged himself from under the covers, blinking blearily, and stumbled into the next room.

"Computer, lights on seven percent."

They had found that was just enough lighting to see by, without being too much to startle the baby. With a sigh, Bashir looked down into the crib at the tiny, bawling figure.

"All right," he said softly. "It's all right."

He reached in to scoop Renzia up carefully and felt a moment's disorientation. How strange it was, even after six weeks. It still felt so alien, as if this couldn't possibly be his real life. But her crying was enough to prove to him this was real. Carrying her carefully in one arm, Bashir went to warm up a bottle in the replicator, then sank onto the couch. Renzia stopped bawling as soon as she realized she was being fed, and began to suck down the milk happily, her tiny face relaxing from its red, scrunched up rage. Bashir jiggled her gently as she drank, watching her. Her eyes began to close again, but he refused to let her fall asleep until she was finished. He knew she couldn't be entirely happy with that, but was distracted enough right now not to start crying again.

Already everyone said she looked like Dax. She had the dark hair and blue eyes, but her eyes were wide, like Bashir's. She also had Trill markings, although they were somewhat lighter than Dax's.

It had taken them a very long time to finally come to the decision to have children. Bashir hadn't wanted to in medical school of course, and then had come the seemingly endless consideration about having a child who was half-Trill. Would she be able to become a host? There was no way of guaranteeing that her genetics would support that, aside from genetic engineering, which was, of course, illegal in the Federation. It would be up to chance. Would she care? They had met and talked to many half-Trill, some of them who had no desire to be joined whatsoever, some who were in the initiate program. Bashir and Dax had noticed that half-human, half-Trill individuals tended not to want to be joined; something about the human side wanted to retain the individuality. All the half-Vulcans, half-Trill they met were unjoined, but it had not been much of a surprise to Dax. Bashir had understood when one of them had explained to him that a symbiont would carry too much emotions from past lives to make any half-Vulcan comfortable.

They had talked about not having children at all, or adopting. Certainly there would children out there in need of a good home, and they could provide that. Adoption still wasn't out of the question. They had decided early on if they were going to have children, they would have more than one. Dax had sisters, and Bashir was an only child. He knew how lonely it could be. Especially when one's parents couldn't be around.

In the end, they had decided to take the chance and have a child of their own. A chance it had been. Hybrid pregnancies with a joined Trill as the mother were risky, and Dax had made it very clear that the only reason she wasn't insisting they return to Trill was because Bashir was such a good doctor. Despite their concerns, the pregnancy had gone smoothly, as smoothly as any pregnancy could go, and Dax had given birth to a very healthy girl.

Who was now asleep again, the bottle finished.

Bashir pushed himself to his feet and padded back into the bedroom, put Renzia down on her back and covering her with a light blanket. He tiptoed back into his own bedroom and settled down under the covers. Dax's breathing told him she was fast asleep; that was definitely something that had come with the symbiont. Before, she woke up almost every time he rolled over.

He closed his eyes and was asleep within moments.

* * *

"Wake up, sleepy," a voice said in his ear and he felt a hand rubbing his upper arm.

"Mmm," he sighed, rolling onto his back, opening his eyes. Dax was smiling at him.

"What time is it?" he murmured.

"Oh-six-thirty."

"And Renzi's still asleep?", he asked, propping himself on his elbows.

"Yes, but probably not for long. You'd better get up. I have duty in the lab in half an hour. And you promised to meet Miles for breakfast at oh-seven-thirty."

"I remember," Bashir assured her.

"I know you do. Nothing escapes that brain of yours."

He grinned at her.

"Not even how much I love you," he said.

Dax shook her head, but she was smiling , her blue eyes lit up.

"You're such a charmer, Jules."

"I do try," he said, then kissed her softly. Dax returned the kiss, grinning into it.

From the other room came a small sound.

"I'll get her; I'm already up," Dax said, pushing herself to her feet from where she had been crouching beside the bed. She was already dressed and ready for her duty shift. Bashir lay back down on his pillow, listening to the sounds in the next room. He wanted to go back to sleep, but Dax was right; he was meeting O'Brien for breakfast. With a sigh, he forced himself up and pulled his uniform from the closet. He didn't have duty until that afternoon; both he and Dax were working partial shifts right now. Sisko had offered them complete leave for as long as they wanted, but they both knew that neither of them would know what to do after a few weeks. They had taken the first two weeks off altogether, but one of the bonuses of living on a space station was that it was very easy to get around. If Dax needed him, or he her, it wasn't hard for either of them to get home. Besides, Bashir knew it wouldn't be far to ask Tarses to take on all responsibility for the medical duties on the station.

He pulled the green mock-turtleneck shirt over his head, then slipped on the uniform jacket. Bashir really approved of these new uniforms. The jackets were black, with a thin coloured stripe that came across the shoulder then deflected straight down to the waist. The stripe colours, of course, matched the mock turtleneck and differed by job type. The rank pips were on the collar of the jacket, not the shirt, and the jacket was worn partially open. Starfleet had really outdone itself in comfort this time, too.

Dax came back in, in her blue and black science uniform.

"Here," she said, shifting the baby into his arms. "I need to get going. I'll see you at lunch."

"Right," Bashir said, kissing her quickly on the lips. "Have a good day."

"I will. Love you."

"I love you, too," he replied easily. She smiled, then bent down to give their daughter a swift kiss on the forehead. Bashir picked up his daughter's small hand and waved it at Dax, who laughed and hurried out the door.

"All right, baby," Bashir said, settling his daughter on his bed and surrounding her with pillows, to keep her in one place. "Daddy needs to shave. Here."

He gave her a soft, plastic toy that Kira had given them when Renzia had been born. Immediately, the baby stuck it into her mouth, then lost her grip on it. Bashir put it back into her hands; she was too young to be able to hold onto it for long, though. It took him awhile to shave because of that fact; Renzia didn't like being alone and didn't like being bored. And she was bored as soon as she was alone and had lost her grip on her toy. In the end, he was late, but he arrived to find that Commander Kira and Kai Bareil had joined Commander O'Brien.

"Kai Bareil!", Bashir said in surprise as he approached the table. "I didn't think you'd be arriving for two more days! Good morning, Miles, good morning, Nerys."

The two Starfleet officers returned the greeting and the kai smiled his gentle, peaceful smile. It was astounding to Bashir that someone could be so composed all of the time.

"Neither did I," Bareil admitted. "But some appointments were moved up, and I was able to get away early." He had Kira's hand in his, and squeezed it as he spoke. The commander was grinning, her entire face alight. Bashir couldn't imagine how they made it work; if he had as little time to spend with Dax as Kira and Bareil did with each other, he'd go insane.

"So this is Terok Nor's newest resident," the kai continued.

Bashir grinned as he sat down, shifting Renzia in his arms.

"For the time being. Would you like to hold her?"

"If it's all right with you," Bareil replied.

"I was going to give her to Miles anyway. She loves having any new attention. She loves people."

"Especially that godfather of hers," Kira commented, grinning over at O'Brien.

"I have the touch," O'Brien joked. Carefully, Bashir gave Renzia to Bareil, who looked delighted to be holding her. Renzia, always appreciative of any attention, cooed endearingly and waved her small hands.

"She looks just like her mother," Bareil said.

"Everyone says that," Bashir replied with a grin. "How is everyone this morning?"

"Fine," O'Brien replied, sipping his raktajino. "And now that you're here, we can start eating."

Bashir laughed.

"You didn't have to wait for me. But I appreciate that you got my breakfast," he said, gesturing to the scones and jam and raktajino in front of him.

"Food is a poor substitute for sleep," O'Brien said. "But a father can always hope it works."

"Is she still waking up in the night?" Kira asked.

"Yes," Bashir said, then took a sip of his steaming coffee. The Bajorans had opted for a more traditional Bajoran breakfast, and, true to his self-discipline, Bareil had less food than the rest of them, mostly fruit and grains, and some tea. "But that's common for human babies. Even half-human babies. She'll grow out of it."

"It's a good thing Bajoran nights are longer than Terran ones," Kira commented. "Gives you that extra hour to sleep."

Bashir smirked.

"I don't notice anymore. I've lived here too long. You should hear Jadzia complain. I think she'd like another ten hours added to the night."

"Can't say I blame her sometimes," O'Brien commented.

"Only because then you'd have more time to do repairs," Kira teased.

"Cardassian and Bajoran technology were never meant to work with other Federation technologies. I don't understand why Starfleet never thought of that when this place was built. You'd think that the Cardassians tabling a plan to build an orbital processing center might have caused a few other Federation engineers to pay attention, instead of us scrambling to join technologies afterwards."

"You could always request more Cardassian engineers," Kira said with a smile. "I'm sure I could get Captain Sisko to approve the transfers."

"I bet you could," O'Brien said dryly. "But the ones I have already act as if I'm crazy when I suggest changes. Or think they can do it better than I can."

"There's no engineer in the galaxy who could do a better job than you, Miles," Bashir assured his friend. O'Brien chuckled.

"Just be glad you can get Cardassian parts," Kira pointed out. "Can you imagine if you couldn't?"

"Don't even say that!" O'Brien warned.

"Speaking of Cardassians," Bashir said, watching with a smile at Bareil played with his daughter, "When is the admiral due, Commander?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," Kira replied with a smile of her own.

"You must be looking forward to it," Bashir commented. He felt strange saying it, as if the arrival of Kira's adopted father wasn't something she should be looking forward to it. He shook off the feeling, wondering what was wrong with him, then deciding it was the lack of uninterrupted sleep.

"It's been a long time since I've seen him, or my mother," the commander said. "And Ziyal is coming with them."

"That's wonderful," Bareil said. "I didn't know that. It will be good to see her again."

"I just found out myself, early this morning," Kira replied. "When your father is Admiral Dukat, it's not hard to get permission to come to an official state event."

"Any word for the Trisepat?", Bashir asked.

"Our communications posts in the Gamma Quadrant sent a signal through late last night. The fleet's on their way. They'll be here exactly when they said they'd be here."

"Nothing like Trisepat punctuality," O'Brien said.

"They're nothing if not precise," Bashir agreed. "Still, better than having a surprise fleet of ships sailing through the wormhole."

"I still think we were lucky," Kira said. "Imagine what else we could have found on the other side of the wormhole. If a Bajoran or Cardassian ship had found the wormhole seven hundred years ago, it would have been that Dominion we would have run into."

"From what I've read about Trisepat history, that would have been a very unpleasant alternative," Bashir said, feeling a shiver run down his spine. He wondered at himself; why was he feeling so off today?

"Well, we don't have to worry about any of that," Kira said, taking off her black and red uniform jacket. Underneath, she wore a red command uniform shirt with short sleeves. Most non-Cardassian Starfleet officers stationed on Terok Nor did. The station had been designed by Cardassian engineers and built by the Cardassian and Bajoran governments to process ore mined on Bajor that was heading for the Cardassian systems. It was kept warmer than most of the crew liked, but lower than standard ambient Cardassian temperature. There had to be some compromises.

"All we need to worry about is the masses of ambassadors and delegates and luminaries that will be flooding the station over the next two days," O'Brien commented.

Bareil, who was eating his breakfast and occupying Renzia, smiled at the officers.

"I'm glad to the first of those masses," he said.

"Believe me, Antos, you're our favorite," Bashir replied with a grin. "I wish they were all like you."

"Patient and respectful," Kira agreed. "But I don't think we're expecting any Klingons. It should make Quark happy."

"And me," Bashir replied. "Simon, too. I cannot believe how much those people love to fight."

"Don't get too comfortable with the idea, Julian," Kira warned. "Chancellor Gowron might send some diplomats anyway. Just to show the Trisepat that the Klingon Empire welcomes them and looks forward to their visit to Qo'noS."

Bashir opened his mouth to say something when the station rocked suddenly. The four adults looked around, alarmed, and Bashir noticed Bareil tighten his grip on the baby.

"What was that?", the doctor demanded.

"Kira to ops!" the commander snapped, hitting her combadge. "What the hell is going on?"

"Some sort of explosion in the ore processing center!" Dax's voice came back. "We're trying to establish communications– got it! Dax out!"

Bashir was already rising from his chair when Tarses' calm, level voice came over the com.

"Tarses to Bashir. Please report to the infirmary."

"I'm on my way, Simon!" Bashir replied.

"Sisko to Kira and O'Brien. Get up here now."

Bashir hesitated, aware that he had to do something with Renzia.

"Don't worry, Doctor," Bareil said in a reassuring voice. "I'll take care of her."

"Thank you," Bashir said gratefully and turned and ran to the infirmary. He skidded inside in time to see the transporter depositing five people into the main examination area. Tarses was there immediately, cool and collected as always, and he was joined by two nurses.

Three of the people beamed in were standing, and two were holding an obviously injured man between them. Only Odo wasn't wearing the mandatory processing suit, being impervious to any of the contaminants or the heat in the processing center. The man being held by the two white suit-clad ore workers had obviously been hit by the blast; his own white suit was stained black and torn open, revealing scorched clothing and blood.

The other suited figure removed her helmet; it was a Cardassian supervisor. Bashir noted all of this in less than a second.

"What the hell happened?", he demanded, grabbing a tricorder and scanning the injured man as the two other ore workers struggled to get him onto a bed.

"There was an explosion in one of the power lines," Odo replied. "Part of the conduit got blocked somehow and the pressure built up until it blew."

"We have to get this man into surgery. Simon, Jabara, Kiln, help me get him desuited. Odo, who is it?"

"Jake Sisko."


	2. Chapter 2

2

Bashir and Tarses emerged from surgery two hours later. Bashir knew Tarses must be tired, but he wasn't showing it. The Vulcan half of his ancestry did help; he was as strong as any full-blooded Vulcan, and dealt better with lack of sleep than anyone else Bashir knew. Nonetheless, Bashir dismissed him; Tarses had been there most of the night and all morning, and his duty shift was long since over.

Captain Sisko was in the waiting area, pacing back and forth when Bashir stepped in. To the doctor's relief, Ezri Reth was there with him. She was officially still a counselor-in-training, and under the supervision of Counselor Telnorri, but she was remarkably adept. Like Dax, she was joined, but she was her symbiont's first host, so her experiences and memories were solely hers.

Sisko stopped abruptly and spun to face Bashir.

"How is he?" the captain demanded.

"He's all right, sir," Bashir assured him. "Although it's going to take some time for him to recover. His injuries were very serious, and anyone, especially a young man Jake's age, is going to need time to accept what happened."

"How serious?" Sisko asked.

"I had to amputate and replace his right arm just above the elbow. Sir, he won't be able to feel a difference, but something like that is a big shock. I'm taking him off duty in the processing center for at least a month, maybe longer. He will need quite a bit of rest. I want to keep him here for the next two days for observation, and then I should be able to discharge him to you and Captain Yates."

Sisko nodded curtly.

"Other than that, he's recovering well."

"Can I see him?"

"Yes, but he is still unconscious from the surgery."

"Can you revive him?"

"I could, but I'm not going to, sir. I'd rather he woke up in his own time. It will be better for his body, and help speed the recovery. He doesn't need the additional stress of his body right now."

Sisko nodded again, looking displeased, his dark eyes flashing angrily. Bashir knew the anger wasn't directed at him, but at Sisko's inability to control the situation.

"You can still go and see him, sir. Believe me, unconscious patients can still be aware of outside stimuli. I'm sure Jake would appreciate having you there."

"Thank you, Julian," Sisko said, and hurried off toward the recovery area. Bashir stripped off the rest of his green surgery clothing and stuffed it into the replicator provided for that reason. It vanished as he sat down beside Reth, who gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Do they know what happened yet? The details, I mean."

The counselor gave a small shrug.

"From what Commander O'Brien was able to tell me, one of the power conduits got blocked somehow, and the pressure built up to the point that it exploded. Apparently, it happened very quickly, which is why it wasn't detected. Captain Sisko has our repair crews working with the ore processing repair crews to figure out what happened, exactly."

Bashir sighed, running his hands through his hair.

"You look exhausted," Reth commented.

He gave her a lopsided smile.

"Thanks," he replied.

Reth smiled back slightly, shaking her head at him. She had the same colouring as Dax, with dark hair and blue eyes, although her skin was paler. Bashir tended to think of this as the typical Trill colouring, even though he knew it wasn't. But Dax and Reth were the only two Trill he knew very well, and they looked a lot a like in those terms.

"Julian, you're a good doctor, and Jake's a strong young man. He'll be fine."

Bashir nodded.

"I know that," he replied. "It isn't really that that's bothering me. I mean, obviously, I wish this hadn't happened, and I wish this wasn't Jake. But it just seems like the kind of thing to happen today."

Reth gave him a confused look.

"What do you mean?"

"I've felt strange all day," he admitted. "Like something isn't quite right."

"Quite right how?" she asked.

Bashir smirked. He was amazed at Reth's ability to draw anyone into talking about what they might prefer to keep quiet. But he wanted to get rid of this unease, and he had been mulling it over all morning, prior to going into surgery. Maybe he needed a fresh point of view.

"Things are surprising me that shouldn't surprise me. Like this morning, when Renzi woke up, it woke me up, and I was startled that I had a baby. Mind you, I've had that feeling since she was born. But there have been other things. It felt strange to talk to Commander Kira about her father visiting, as if it wasn't right that Admiral Dukat was related to her, or that she was looking forward to seeing him."

Reth frowned.

"That does sound odd," she admitted. "But everyone has off days, Julian, and you've told me yourself you aren't getting any full nights' sleep, with Renzi waking up. I wouldn't be surprise if you were simply tired and it was throwing you off."

Bashir sighed and leaned back in his seat.

"Neither would I," he admitted. "Maybe you're right. Maybe all I really need is a good night's sleep."

"Why don't you go get some rest now?" Reth suggested.

"I can't," Bashir admitted. "I sent Simon home; he'd been here all night. And someone needs to stay with Jake."

"What about Renzi?" Reth asked.

"Kai Bareil has her, or at least he had her when I came here. I don't know if Jadzia's gone off duty to take care of her."

"Well, try to get some rest sometime today," the counselor advised. "And if you're still feeling this disorientation, you know how to get ahold of me."

"Thanks, Ezri," Bashir said sincerely. He truly liked Reth, and found it easy to talk to her, despite his usual disquiet where counselors were concerned.

"That's what I'm here for. I'll talk to you later, Julian," she said. She rose, squeezed his arm, and slipped out. Bashir watched her go, then tapped his combadge. Now that the emergency was past, and the situation was under control, he needed to find out where his wife and child were. He couldn't imagine anything that would make him feel better right now than knowing they were all right and safe.

"Bashir to Dax."

"This is Dax, go ahead, Julian."

He breathed out a deep sigh of relief.

"Where are you, Jadzia?"

"At home. Renzi's asleep. How's Jake?"

"He'll be all right. Captain Sisko is with him right now. I have to stay here, because Simon worked all night. Do you think you can come down here when Renzi wakes up?"

He heard the smile in her voice when she replied: "We'll be there as soon as we can."

* * *

The doors of the station's infirmary hissed open to admit Doctor Simon Tarses. He stepped over the raised lip of the threshold, something to which he had to adjust to doing when he was first assigned here. It seemed illogical to him to have these raised doorways; it only impeded access and caused many newcomers to trip.

Julian Bashir was monitoring Jake Sisko's condition when Tarses stepped into the recovery room. The human looked up and smiled, although Tarses could see the dark circles under his eyes and the weariness in his face. It had been a long day.

"How is he?" Tarses asked.

"Better," Bashir replied. "He's still unconscious, but his vital signs are strong and steady. I've been giving him analgesics every three hours, one cc only."

"Understood," Tarses said.

"I imagine he'll be awake soon. Captain Sisko left about half an hour ago, but I promised him we could set up a cot if he wanted to stay here tonight."

"I'll take care of that," Tarses assured Bashir.

"Keep an eye on the circulation and neural transmissions to his new arm, and on his adrenaline levels. When he wakes up, I don't want him panicking and making himself worse."

"All right," Tarses said, then frowned slightly. "You should go home and sleep, Julian. You look tired."

"I am," the other doctor admitted with a smile. "And I have every intention of going home and going to bed. But if you need me, just call."

"I will," Tarses assured him, but suspected that this night would be fairly uneventful, unless more patients came in unexpectedly. With the processing center shut down for the time being, he did not find this a very likely prospect.

"All right, I'll be back in the morning," Bashir said. "I'll be pulling full shifts until Jake's out of here, so we have someone to keep an eye on him all the time."

"Agreed."

Bashir handed the padd he'd been holding to Tarses. It was an up-to-date history of Jake's condition and any changes in his status. Tarses gave it a quick glance and saw nothing of note, although he would look it over more carefully in a few minutes.

"Good night, Simon."

"Good night, Julian. Sleep well."

Again, Bashir grinned.

"I hope so," he said and walked out. Tarses looked down at the padd, then up again when he saw Bashir pause, out of the corner of his eye. The human doctor stood where he was for a moment, then put a hand to his forehead. Tarses opened his mouth to ask if he was all right, but Bashir swayed, then collapsed.

It was only because of his Vulcan reflexes that Tarses managed to catch Bashir before the human hit the ground or the wall. He grunted under the sudden strain, and managed to shift Bashir's weight appropriately enough so that he could lower the suddenly unconscious man to the floor.

"Julian," Tarses said, touching Bashir's face. He snapped his hand back then; even to his half-Vulcan senses, which were warmer than a full human's, Bashir was burning up. There was sweat beading on the doctor's forehead and he was breathing hard. Tarses glanced behind him quickly, then shifted Bashir again, lifting him up easily and depositing him onto a biobed. He slapped a biomonitor on the other doctor's forehead, picked up a medical tricorder and began scanning him. He frowned deeply, the human half of him threatening to take over, worry impinging on the edges of his mind. Bashir's temperature was 39 degrees Celsius. Without meaning to, Tarses swore under his breath. He caught himself then, and reasserted control of his emotions. It would not help Bashir to be agitated or distracted right now.

Tarses found a hypospray and took a small sample of the doctor's blood, putting it into the testing chamber. He let it run while he injected Bashir with an analgesic and medication that would help bring down the fever. He took the doctor's uniform jacket off and hung it up conscientiously.

The computer beeped to let him know the scan of Bashir's blood sample was finished.

"Results," Tarses ordered.

"Patient is suffering from varicella-zoster virus."

Tarses paused, then turned around to glance behind him.

"What?", he said, looking at the blood sample in the testing casing.

"Patient is suffering from varicella-zoster virus."

Tarses turned back to Bashir, who was half-conscious now, and mumbling something the doctor could not make out.

"Computer, prepare three vials of acyclovir," he ordered.

"Acknowledged."

Tarses straightened up as the computer produced three vials of the requested drug. He took one, fitted it into a hypospray and injected Bashir with it. Then he tapped his combadge.

"Tarses to Commander Dax."

"Dax here. Go ahead, Simon."

"Commander, you need to come down the infirmary. Julian is ill."


	3. Chapter 3

3

"Chicken pox!" Dax and Sisko asked at the same time. There was confusion in Dax's voice, incredulity in Sisko's.

Tarses nodded.

"Officially, it is a virus called varicella-zoster," he said. "It's a very common illness among human children. We've never been able to eradicate it entirely. There is a vaccine, but it's usually only administered to children with immunodeficiencies."

"Why?" asked Dax.

"It's nonfatal in healthy children," Tarses explained. "Once a child's had the disease, he or she usually becomes immune to it. It helps build the immune system as well. A healthy immune system has to be exposed to some contagions, or it won't be able to strengthen itself."

"If people become immune to it, then why is Julian sick?" Dax asked.

"There are cases of adults contracting the disease a second time. It's also possible that Julian never had this as a child. I've checked his medical records, and there's no indication he had it."

"But his medical records were all altered when he was enhanced," Dax finished for Tarses, sighing. "Right."

"The only people who would know for sure are his parents," Tarses said.

"And they're in a penal colony on Earth."

"Precisely."

"I'll get through to them," Sisko promised.

"Benjamin, he's my husband, I should–"

"And he's my doctor," Sisko cut in. "I am his CO. You told me yourself they've never met you, Dax, and I'd rather them have to face Julian's commander than his wife on something like this. It's my responsibility as his superior officer."

Dax sighed again, crossing her arms and nodding.

"Right," she said. Truth be told, she hadn't wanted to talk to Bashir's parents anyway. She had never met them, as Sisko had said, and she knew Bashir hadn't said much about her. To say they weren't close would be astronomically understating the issue. She could count on one hand how many times he had spoken to them since finding out about his genetic enhancements at the age of twenty-two.

"So, what happens now?" Dax asked.

Tarses looked displeased, something which started the Trill. She wasn't used to seeing any expression on the half-Vulcan's face.

"This illness can be extremely dangerous to an adult patient," he said plainly. "It can be fatal. I will need to keep Julian here. I've been administering an anti-viral drug that has been known to help, and Julian does have a very strong immune system thanks to his genetic enhancements."

"If his immune system is so strong, how did he get this?" Sisko asked.

Tarses gave him a long look.

"I don't know, sir."

"Can I see him?" Dax asked. "Will I get infected?"

"Yes, you can see him. Trill cannot contract or carry this disease."

"What about Renzi?" Dax pressed.

"Half-human children have a very low contraction rate," Tarses assured her. "If you bring Renzia in tomorrow, I can vaccinate her. Commander, I need to ask if you and your son had this illness."

"Oh, yes, Jake certainly did," Sisko said. "I remember it very well. And I did, too, when I was five."

"Good. I will need every human who has never had this to report to me for vaccination tomorrow. Dax, you can go in, if you'd like."

Dax nodded and hurried away, thinking about her daughter. She ought to call the O'Briens and let them know what was going on. They had been good enough to take the baby when Dax had been called to the infirmary, but, right now, Dax was more concerned with seeing Bashir than talking to anyone else. It could wait a few minutes.

Bashir was in one of the small recovery rooms, lying on a biobed on his back in the low lighting. Dax hurried over to him and took his hand, smoothing back the damp hair from his feverish forehead. He had a few small red spots on his face, and she hoped that was normal.

"Jules," she whispered.

His eyes fluttered open and he managed a weak smile.

"Jadzia," he whispered back. "Hi."

"How do you feel?"

"Terrible," he replied, but managed a weak smile. "I feel like I've been hit by a shuttle. I don't suppose that's what happened?"

"No."

"Pity," he sighed. Then he reached up and Dax took his hand quickly. "It's all right," he assured her. "I'll be okay."

"Simon said this can be fatal in adults," she said.

Bashir managed to nod.

"It can," he said. "I need some water."

Dax got him some quickly and helped him sit up enough to drink it. Then he lay back down, looking exhausted.

"Jadzia, listen to me. I'm not going to die. People who die from this die as a result of opportunistic varicella pneumonia and they invariably have some sort of compromised immune system. I'll be all right, I promise. And Simon is a good doctor. One of the best I've ever met."

Dax nodded. She was still uncertain and hated that feeling. After eight lifetimes, it was unnerving how this fear could creep up. But it always so hard to see a loved one in the hospital. Especially Bashir, who had never really been ill since she'd known him.

"I don't understand how you could get this now, with your enhancements."

He nodded. There were circles under his eyes, and he looked as if he might slip into sleep at any moment, but surprised her by staying awake.

"I don't remember if I had this as a child, so getting it now might not be such a surprise. Please, don't worry." He paused, then frowned. "Where's Renzia?"

"With Miles and Keiko."

"Good," he murmured, then sighed, his eyelids fluttering shut.

"Do you want me to go?" Dax whispered.

"No, stay here," he mumbled. "Talk to me."

"About what?"

"Something. Anything."

She paused, and thought he'd gone to sleep, but he turned his face toward her and opened his eyes slightly.

"I remember when I first met you," he whispered.

Dax smiled.

"So do I. You still owe Shannon for introducing us, you know."

"_I_ owe her?" he murmured. "What about you?"

"I'm over three hundred years old. I would have muddled through somehow. But then this dashing young medical student stepped into my life. What was a girl to do?"

"You weren't three hundred years old when I met you," Bashir reminded her.

"No," Dax agreed. "Only twenty-four. And susceptible to the charms of a certain young cadet."

"Not so charming now," Bashir murmured.

"For better or worse, Jules, remember?"

"How could I forget?" he asked, closing his eyes, a small smile on his face.

"I don't think anyone who was there the day you proposed has forgotten that. I certainly wasn't expecting you to leave after lunch for your neurology class and then turn around and ask me in front of everyone walking past."

"Neither was I," Bashir admitted.

"It's probably why I said yes," Dax said, smiling and leaning down to kiss his forehead. His skin was warm even to her lips and she frowned, then smoothed her expression when he opened his eyes again. He seemed so vulnerable lying there, and it wasn't a sight she was used to. This was Bashir humbled, his role in this infirmary completely reserved. No wonder it was unsettling, she realized.

"But then, how could I have said no to the man who encouraged me to be joined even if it meant the risk of losing me?"

Bashir squeezed her hand gently and Jadzia squeezed back, a bit harder. Those had been rough days, after her joining, still not sure what she would want as she adjusted to the symbiont. And Bashir had told her not to refuse the symbiont on his account, because he would rather have lost her than have her regret a decision like that. And he had faced the difficulties head on, working through them with her.

She wouldn't have traded him for anyone in the galaxy.

His deepening breathing told her he had slipped into sleep. Dax watched him for a moment, then pulled up a chair and sat down beside him, still holding his hand. In all her lives, she had never known anyone quite like him, so strong and loyal, so willing to fight for what they had. It still amazed her at times, because she knew how people perceived Bashir when they first met him: young, arrogant, untried. Dax knew better. He was those things, of course, but underneath, there was a man who knew what he wanted and would face down any challenges to get it.

She stayed awhile longer, watching him sleep, a fairly peaceful sleep despite the fever. Then she went to pick up her daughter and headed home. It was time to put this day behind her. Even after eight lifetimes, a day where two people close to her had landed in the infirmary had rattled her. She could tell when she picked Renzia up from the O'Briens that it had rattled Miles as well. They had all grown used to the stability of Terok Nor. Even for someone who had died seven times, suffering was not an easy prospect to face.

* * *

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency."

Jake Sisko watched with interest as the emergency medical hologram came to life. Doctor Tarses extended a padd and the hologram took it.

"The other doctor is ill, and requires medical attention. So does this young man. I cannot provide care twenty-six hours a day."

"I understand," the EMH said.

"This is a detailed medical history of both patients," Tarses continued. "Both cases are fairly straightforward. Jake is allowed to have any visitors who come and see him, although I am restricting Julian's visitors to the names on the padd. If you have any questions, please call me."

The EMH nodded.

"Doctor Simon Tarses, is it?" he asked, glancing down at the padd.

"Yes. I will be back on duty in twelve hours." He turned to Jake and nodded. "I will see you then."

Jake grinned, although weakly. He was exhausted and still on some pain killers, but was feeling remarkably better than he had when he had awoken in the middle of the night. Despite the explosion and his injuries, he felt in good spirits. Tarses had explained about his arm being replaced, and earlier in the morning, Ezri Reth had come by to talk to him about it. Jake wondered if they were expecting him to be shocked or traumatized, but he couldn't see how he would feel that way. His arm was still his arm. When he held it up, it looked and felt the same. His sense of touch reacted the same way. Nothing _felt_ different. Reth had been pleased about that. Jake wondered if his reaction was due to the fact that he couldn't actually remember the accident. He remembered nothing past starting work in the processing center that morning, then waking up here.

"Have a good day, Doctor," he said as Tarses departed. The EMH turned to the young man lying on the bed and gave him a critical look.

"According to this, you're recovering well," he said.

Jake smiled again.

"That's good," he said. "Can you let me go home?"

"I'm afraid not. Doctor Tarses was very specific in his orders here. You're here until at least tomorrow."

Jake sighed.

"What am I supposed to do here all day?" he asked.

"Heal," the doctor replied.

"Jake-o!" a voice said from the doorway and Sisko stepped in, grinning. "How do you feel?"

"Can I help you?" the EMH enquired.

"I'm Captain Benjamin Sisko, commander of this station and this young man's father. I trust I'm allowed to visit him?"

The EMH rolled his eyes and Jake bit down on surprised laughter.

"I'm aware of you who are, Captain," the doctor sighed, sounding put upon. "Very well. Just try not to be too rambunctious."

Sisko raised an eyebrow, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

"I'll be sure to try," he promised.

"Good," the doctor muttered darkly. "If you need me, I'll be checking up on this doctor with," he glanced at the padd, then raised his eyebrows, an expression of distaste on his face, "Chicken pox."

The EMH left the room and Sisko and Jake exchanged a look, chuckling quietly.

"He has quite the bedside manner," Sisko commented, shaking his head.

"Well, we could have had that one modeled after Doctor Bashir, remember?"

"Yes, and how do you suppose Julian would have felt being taken care of by a hologram of himself?"

Jake grinned.

"How are you feeling, kiddo?"

"Better, Dad. Honest."

Sisko leaned down to kiss Jake on the forehead.

"Glad to hear it. Did Ezri come by and talk to you?"

"She did," Jake replied. "And I'm fine. Really, I am," he said, when Sisko looked doubtful. "I don't remember anything that happened."

"Jake, whether you remember it or not, you've still had a very traumatic experience. I know right now you just want to get up and go, but you need time to rest."

Jake sighed.

"That's what Doctor Tarses said."

"Well, he has a good head on his shoulders. I wouldn't argue logic with a Vulcan, even a half-Vulcan. Whether or not you want to, right now you just have to give yourself some time."

"I just wish they'd let me go home."

"Soon enough. And it won't be home you'll be going to. You're coming to stay with Kasidy and me."

"What? Why?"

"Julian's orders."

"But he's sick."

"He's still the CMO and his orders still stand. I can't do anything about that."

Jake frowned, but reluctantly left the subject alone.

"All right."

"That's the spirit." Sisko glanced around the room. "Looks like you've had a lot of well wishers since I left."

Jake nodded, then grimaced slightly from the fatigue. Every available surface in the room was covered with flowers or cards, mostly from the other ore processing workers. His two supervisors, Odo and Chlera Nerak had brought the gifts. Nog had stopped by before his duty shift, too, and brought Jake his writing padds and some music, for which Jake was grateful. He didn't have the energy to write at the moment, but he knew he'd get bored eventually, cooped up in the infirmary.

"Kasidy sends her love and promises she'll come by after she's done her runs to Bajor today. Kira and Kai Bareil said a prayer for you in the shrine last night. Keiko says to say hello, too, and Dax wants you to get better quickly."

"I will," Jake promised. "It'll be good to see Kas."

"Just make sure you don't have too many visitors. You still do need to rest."

"You keep saying that," Jake sighed, but knew his father was right. He was tired, and felt himself beginning to drift off.

"Excuse me," a voice said from behind Sisko and Jake looked over his father's shoulder to see an unfamiliar Cardassian standing in the doorway. Sisko was on his feet immediately.

"Admiral Dukat. Are you all right?"

"I'm afraid not, Captain," the admiral replied. He was holding his right arm and looking pained. "I tend to forget how good my daughter really is at springball. Is there a doctor on duty?"

"We have the EMH program running right now. I believe he's in the other room."

The admiral nodded and limped away.

"How is Doctor Bashir, Dad?"

Sisko smiled.

"That's my son," he said. "Thinking about everyone else before himself."

Jake chuckled quietly.

"To be honest, I don't know. Dax said Julian is sure he'll be fine, although Simon is more concerned. But Julian's a strong man, and a doctor. He probably does know best."

"How does someone his age get chicken pox?" Jake murmured.

"That's what I'd like to know," Sisko said, then shook his head once. "You need to get some sleep, Jake-o. I'll come back later, with Kasidy."

"All right," Jake mumbled.

"I love you," Sisko said, kissing his son on the forehead. Jake managed a small smile in return before finally succumbing to sleep.

* * *

The EMH entered the dim, quiet room and looked at the patient on the bed. Bashir was either asleep or pretending to be. Quickly, the doctor checked Bashir's temperature, noted it had gone down, and gave him another dose of acyclovir.

"So this is the man with the chicken pox," he muttered to himself. Indeed, Bashir had the telltale red pox marks on his face and hands. The EMH looked at them disdainfully and shook his head.

"What kind of grown man gets the chicken pox?" he said under his breath.

"Doctor," said a voice from behind him. The EMH turned to see an admiral dressed in the black and grey of Starfleet security standing in the corridor, holding his right arm and obviously favoring his right leg.

"What can I do for you, Admiral?"

"Sporting injury," the admiral replied.

"Well, come with me. Tell me what happened."

The Cardassian limped behind the EMH into the examination area.

"I was playing springball with my daughter. She's a lot better at it than I remembered."

"I see. Well, perhaps you should find an opponent closer to your skill level."

The admiral laughed, a rich and appreciative laugh.

"I don't think so, Doctor," he replied. "I doubt Nerys would forgive me if I refused to play against her."

"Nerys? As in Commander Kira Nerys?"

"The very same."

"Then you must be Admiral Dukat."

"Do they run your program often, Doctor?"

"Not at all. In fact, I'm starting to think they don't appreciate me very much. The simple fact is that I've been programmed with the names and personal information of the station's permanent crew. It makes it easier on everyone when I am running."

"I see."

"This will hurt."

"Your assurances do wonders for my anxieties, Doctor. I was under the impression that human doctors were renowned for their bed side manner."

"I'm sure some of them are. I, on the other hand, am a hologram, not a human. Hold still, please, Admiral. There, that takes care of your arm. I don't care what your daughter thinks, you won't be playing for the next two days. You had a fractured radius and it looks like you've got a nasty sprain in your ankle."

Dukat sighed, shaking his head.

"Very well, Doctor, if you insist."

"I always insist. Now, off with that boot. I'm a doctor, not a tailor. I need to get a better look at that ankle."

* * *

Bashir opened his eyes and lay in the near darkness, straining his enhanced hearing as much as he could. There was someone else in the infirmary, aside from Jake and the EMH. He listened hard, ignoring the sounds of the machinery around him. It was more difficult to concentrate now; the fever was affecting his mental acuity and distracting him. He felt like he was burning up, but at the same time, was loath to get rid of any of the blankets covering him. He still felt weak, as if he had actually been hit by a shuttle, and he was thirsty and hungry.

All of that took second place to trying to figure out whose voice that was.

Dukat.

Bashir started when he realized the Cardassian was there. What was he doing on the station? How had he slipped past security? Why was the EMH treating him? Since when did his infirmary have an EMH?

Carefully, Bashir slipped from his bed. He gripped the side of the bed for a moment while he regained his tenuous balance, taking several deep breaths to steady himself. He went to tap his communicator, then realized he wasn't wearing it. He was in the horrible purple and orange infirmary pajamas.

Slowly, he made his way to the corridor and up to the examination room. Dukat was sitting on an exam bed, being tended to by the EMH. He was dressed in a black and grey Starfleet security uniform. Bashir's brow furrowed; why in the galaxy would Dukat think that such a disguise would fool anyone?

"Computer," Bashir whispered, "Deactivate EMH."

The EMH vanished in mid-sentence and Dukat looked around, surprised. Before he could open his mouth to reactivate the hologram, Bashir stepped into the room, one hand on the door frame for support.

"Dukat," he said in a low voice.

"Admiral Dukat, yes," the Cardassian said.

"Do you think that's going to fool anyone? That you'll go unnoticed here?"

The Cardassian gave him a puzzled and very careful look.

"Do I think what will fool anyone?" he asked, getting up carefully from the bed. Bashir noted that the Cardassian was favoring his right leg and took the advantage. He launched himself at Dukat, catching the other man off guard and bearing him to the ground. Dukat struggled, but Bashir was just as strong or stronger, thanks to his enhancements.

"Starfleet is going to be very happy to get their hands on you," Bashir managed as the Cardassian fought back. Bashir held on, but his illness had drained him of some of his usual strength.

"Get off of me!" Dukat ordered.

"You're not getting away this time!" Bashir promised.

Dukat managed to half sit up and shove Bashir aside long enough to hit his combadge.

"Dukat to security! I need assistance in the infirmary!"

Bashir clambered to his feet and grabbed the Cardassian, shoving him up against the wall. Dukat pushed back, but Bashir held his ground, gritting his teeth.

"Computer, activate EMH!" Dukat managed, struggling against the arm Bashir had pinned against his throat.

"Belay that order!" Bashir snapped.

Dukat managed to shove Bashir aside, but the doctor grabbed the Cardassians arms, bringing his knee up into the other man's stomach. The Cardassian heaved, doubling over and Bashir raised his arms, bringing his hands together in a fist, and was about to bring them down on the back of Dukat's head when he felt a phaser beam slamming into his back. He jerked, then collapsed to the floor. He managed to struggle onto his arms before a hand held him down and he was looking up into Michael Eddington's angry face.

"Just what the hell is going on here?"


	4. Chapter 4

4

The small infirmary was packed. Dax stood with Sisko and Bareil, bouncing Renzia gently in her arms. Admiral Dukat was sitting patiently on an exam bed while the EMH treated him. He was surrounded by his wife and his two daughters, Commander Kira and Ziyal. Commander Eddington and one of his officers were standing slightly off to one side, and the displeasure was plain on Eddington's face.

Dax looked up when the doors to Bashir's room hissed open and Tarses stepped out. He hadn't yet slept; she could see that. He looked tired, but, true to the Vulcan half of his nature, it didn't seem to be bothering him.

"How's Julian?" Sisko demanded.

"Sleeping," Tarses replied. "I've sedated him. Doctor, how is the Admiral?"

"I'm fine," Dukat assured them.

The EMH sighed.

"Self diagnosis, my favorite. But this time, you're right. He's fine."

"Admiral, I am so sorry," Dax started, but Dukat held up a hand, shaking his head.

"Hardly your fault, Commander, and no harm done. The doctor surprised me more than he hurt me." He looked over at the security officers. "I don't intend to press charges, Mister Eddington, so you have no reason to remain."

"Skrain–" his wife began.

Quickly, Dukat held up a hand. "No, Meru, please don't argue."

"He attacked you!" Meru protested.

"Julian has an extremely high fever," Tarses said. "In this condition, humans are often prone to hallucinations. I have no doubt Julian wouldn't have done this under normal circumstances."

"I understand, Doctor. I've been head of Starfleet security in this sector for a long time. Believe me, I've seen more than my share of ill or injured officers. I know what sorts of things it can do to a person's mind. Cardassians are lucky; we're less prone to that. Vulcans, too."

Tarses gave a slight nod and Dukat looked back at the security officers who, ultimately, answered to him.

"Your services are no longer needed, gentlemen, thank you."

Glowering, Eddington gestured to his lieutenant and they left together.

"Father, are you sure you're all right?" Ziyal asked.

Dukat nodded.

"Believe me, Ziyal, Nerys did more damage to me playing springball."

"That is true," the EMH confirmed. "And you're free to go, Admiral. No springball for three days, and no fist fights with other Starfleet officers."

"I'll stay away from the springball court," the Admiral said with a smirk. "I make no promises otherwise."

"Come on, Father," Kira sighed, then glanced at the EMH. "I'll keep him out of trouble," she promised.

She nodded at Dax on the way out, and, to the Trill's relief, there seemed to be no animosity in her face. Dukat even smiled and inclined his head at her, but Dax had long ago grown used to the respect paid to her by the Cardassians. It was the legacy left to her by Curzon.

Tarses turned to the EMH.

"Barring any other attacks, I will be back later this evening."

"Fine," the EMH agreed.

"Captain, Commander," Tarses said on his way out.

Once he was gone, Dax leaned against the wall, sighing. Sisko took Renzia from her arms and grinned at her, bouncing her slightly.

"Are you all right, old man?"

Dax closed her eyes, rubbing them.

"I can't believe Jules attacked Admiral Dukat," she muttered. "He's never hurt anyone before."

Sisko shifted the baby and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Like Simon said, he has a very high fever."

"But to think that Dukat was an enemy? He's Nerys' father! He's been to the station dozens of times and Julian's met him!" she protested wearily.

"I know you remember the hallucinations you had when Joran's memories were surfacing."

"Don't remind me," Dax sighed, pushing herself away from the wall. "I thought Julian was institute security. And that you were trying to cheat me."

"And if you could think Julian was out to hurt you, it isn't so much of a stretch to understand why his brain picked Dukat at random. Who knows, Jadzia? Dukat was an unfamiliar presence in Julian's infirmary. Maybe right now, that's all his mind needed."

"You're probably right. As usual."

He grinned at her.

"Curzon hated when I was right," he said.

"I remember," she replied.

"Come on, let's go. Julian needs to sleep. And you need to rest, too."

Dax nodded and they left the infirmary together, Sisko still carrying Renzia. He tickled her under the chin and grinned broadly when she smiled toothlessly at him.

"Want me to watch her for you?" he asked.

"No, I don't need sleep," Dax said.

"Then come over for awhile," Sisko said. "I'm not on duty until third shift, and I know you aren't either."

"All right," she agreed, relieved. She hadn't wanted to be alone, not after what had just happened. She had never expected Bashir to lash out, fever or not.

The promenade, bustling at this time of the morning, went dark suddenly. Dax tensed and looked up, although it was a gesture of futility. She could hear the confused murmurs from the crowd around her.

"Now what?" Sisko demanded.

Dax tapped her combadge and it gave the deadened chirp that told her it wasn't being picked up by anything.

"Dax to ops," she tried anyway.

"Sisko to ops!" Sisko tried. Then: "Dammit!"

The lights came back as suddenly as they'd gone out, illuminating the confused promenade patrons who were looking around and wincing in the abrupt brightness.

"Sisko to ops," the captain tried again.

"O'Brien here."

"Commander, what the hell is going on?" he demanded.

"We had some sort of station-wide power drain," O'Brien replied. "We're working on locating the source, sir."

"I'll be right up," Sisko said grimly. "Sisko out." He turned to Dax, shifting the baby into her arms. "Sorry about this."

"It's all right, Benjamin. I'll see you later."

"I'll stop in once we've resolved this, if I have time."

Dax chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

"Aren't several Federation ambassadors due in this afternoon?"

Sisko groaned.

"Don't remind me; I have enough on my plate as it is. And Legate Garak and First Minister Shakar will be arriving tomorrow morning. At least I know Shakar will be a breath of fresh air among all the other diplomats."

"Admiral Dukat always speaks highly of Legate Garak," Dax pointed out, shifting her daughter in her arms.

"I know. I hope I can trust the admiral's judgment. I'd better go. I'll see you later."

"Right," Dax said, nodding. Sisko hurried to the nearest turbolift, leaving the Trill woman standing at the edge of the crowd on the promenade, which was now moving again, the power drain mostly forgotten. She herself wondered what it was and experienced a moment's frustration. She should be up there helping figure it out, not standing here, having just learned her sick husband had attacked an admiral.

_All right, Dax_, she thought, _You've been through inconveniences before. There's nothing you can do about it. Go home._

She returned to her quarters, which seemed bigger and emptier without Bashir's presence to fill them up. Ignoring this as best she could, Dax fed her daughter and put her to bed in her crib, then set to work taking care of household chores that needed to be done, as much to distract herself as to accomplish anything. It seemed too quiet now, in a way it never did when she was here and Bashir was on duty. He was in exactly the same place he would be were he on duty, but the reality weighed heavily on Dax's mind. She was having trouble coming to terms with the fact that Bashir had attacked someone. It wasn't like him to come up with such bizarre fantasies, let alone to act on them.

Her daughter was awake again before Dax knew it, so lost had she been for two hours in her private thoughts. She got the baby up, changed her, and was heading back into the livingroom when the door chimed, startling her slightly.

"Come in!" she called.

The door hissed open and Kira stepped over the threshold, holding a padd in her hand.

"Nerys," Dax said in surprise.

"How are you?" the commander asked.

"I'm fine," Dax replied. "I am so sorry about–"

Kira cut her off with a shake of her head.

"It wasn't your fault, and my father doesn't blame Julian. He's sick, Jadzia. My father's a tough man, too. Believe me, I did more damage to him than Julian did."

Dax sighed, sinking onto the couch with her daughter.

"I feel awful," she said.

"Why?" Kira asked, crossing the room and sitting down in the chair beside Dax. "Oh, come here, you," she said to Renzia, putting the padd down on the table and taking the baby. The infant gurgled, her tiny face splitting into a grin as Kira held her up carefully. "Hello, darling. Aren't you beautiful today?" She shifted Renzia so that the baby was resting on her lap and picked up a toy from the floor. The baby grabbed at it and Kira laughed, jiggling it gently in front of her. She looked back up at Dax then.

"It wasn't you who attacked my father," she said. "And I think it's Eddington who's most upset. Believe me, my father's been through a lot worse as a Starfleet security officer. And you can't be held responsible for Julian's actions, even if he is your husband. Besides, no harm done."

"Well, I'm glad you feel that way," Dax sighed.

"I do," Kira said emphatically. "And so does my father. Believe me, I've known him long enough to know what he's like when he's angry. Cardassians have a stubborn streak a kilometer wide."

"You're telling me?" Dax asked, smirking slightly.

"Exactly," Kira said. "So you understand."

"What's this?" Dax asked, picking up the padd Kira had placed on the table.

"Something we found when we were trying to figure out what drained the station's power."

"What did cause that?"

"Miles thinks it has something to do with power fluctuations in the station's core processing and output systems. Apparently, one of the upgraded Starfleet systems stopped responding properly to its Alliance interfaces."

"Why?" Dax asked.

Kira shrugged.

"Who knows?" she asked by way of reply. "I certainly can't explain why our technologies aren't compatible. You'd have to ask Miles. At any rate, it was an easy fix. But look at that."

Dax looked at the padd.

"That's odd," she said.

"That's exactly what Miles said."

"When did this appear?"

"According to sensors, about two days ago. I'm not sure why we didn't pick it up, except it is very faint."

"But it looks like it was moving." Dax protested.

"It seems that way," Kira agreed. "Although its staying on the edge of the Bajoran system. I ran a quick analysis; it actually appears to be orbiting the sun."

Dax raised her eyebrows.

"I've never heard of a subspace anomaly acting like that," she said.

"I hadn't either, but my subspace anomaly expertise is limited," Kira replied. "Captain Sisko thought you might want to have a look at it. So far, it doesn't seem to be threatening anything. We've checked to make sure it isn't a cloaked Klingon ship, or anything like that. For all we know, it's a natural phenomenon that's been occurring in this system and we've never picked it up before. It is out past our Kuiper Belt."

"I see that. It's odd, though. The Bajoran system has always been stable in terms of subspace. What if it's some sort of omega particle disturbance?"

Kira shrugged.

"Wouldn't that be artificial?"

"It could be natural, but highly unlikely in normal space like this."

"I know there aren't any Bajoran scientists trying to create an omega particle. The Alliance gave that up as a valid avenue of research long before they even met the Federation."

"I remember," Dax murmured. "Well, I'll take a look at it tomorrow, if I can find a babysitter for a few hours."

Kira grinned.

"I'll be getting ready for the arrival of Legate Garak and all the other dignitaries, but I know Antos would love to watch her, if you wanted."

"Would he?" Dax asked.

"He was in love with her from the moment he saw her," Kira replied, smiling down at the baby and tickling her under the chin very lightly. Renzia gurgled a happy gurgle and tried to stick two fingers in her mouth.

"Well, if it isn't too much of a problem, that would be wonderful. And I need to be there when the Legate arrives, I think."

"Senior staff, no exceptions. Well, except Julian."

Dax nodded.

"Just let me know when his confirmed arrival time, and I'll be there," she said.

"I'll do that. Now, how about you and this beautiful young woman joining Antos and I for a late lunch?"

Dax smiled widely.

"I'd love to," she replied.


	5. Chapter 5

5

Dax slipped into the quiet infirmary room, pausing a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Bashir was asleep on the bed, on his back. He had even more red spots covering his face and hands, but Tarses had assured her that was a normal symptom and the welts would not scar.

She approached the bed softly; the ability to tiptoe had developed when she'd had her first child, all those lifetimes ago. In her arms, Renzia squirmed and waved her small hands at nothing. It must have been the baby, Dax thought later, because she had been moving so silently that even Bashir's genetically enhanced hearing shouldn't have picked her up. His eyes fluttered open and he groaned, turning his head toward her.

"Hi," she whispered, sitting down on the chair beside his bed, easily adjusting her daughter's weight in her arms.

"Zia, hi," Bashir replied. His voice was stronger today, but still much weaker than it should be. "Where's Worf?"

Dax frowned.

"Worf? What's a worf?"

Bashir stared at her in confusion, then shook his head.

"Probably something I was dreaming," he sighed. He raised the head of his bed slightly, and his pale, tired face melted into a smile when he saw his baby. Dax helped shift Renzia into his arms and the infant broke into a bright smile upon seeing her father.

"She'll be okay?" he asked.

Dax nodded.

"Simon said she probably couldn't catch it, and he vaccinated her just to be on the safe side."

Bashir sighed.

"I miss her. Maybe I can convince Simon to let me go home and recover."

"Oh no!" Dax protested. "I'm a science officer, not a doctor. I'm not nursing you back to health, taking care of Renzi and dealing with all the preparations."

"Wasn't there something in our vows about 'in sickness and in health'?"

"We have infirmaries for sick people, Jules," Dax said tartly. "You aren't leaving until Simon gives the okay _without_ being pressured."

Bashir gave a dramatic sigh.

"Of all the people I could have married, it would have to be a three hundred year old Trill with an ego the size Bajor."

"Hah!" Dax snapped, but did so smiling. "And who else would have had you?"

"I don't know. What about that dancer? The French one?"

"She never would have given you the time of day, my love," Dax replied, running a hand through his damp and slightly greasy hair. "You need a shower. Or a bath."

He gave her a wicked grin.

"A sponge bath is usually appropriate for someone in my condition."

"Simon's job, not mine," Dax said. "Or one of your nurses."

Bashir sat the baby up on his chest, taking care to support her head. The infant gurgled at him and he stared back, a faint frown on his face, his eyes distant. Dax watched him carefully, worried he was weakening and might drop their daughter, but then he turned to her, a guarded, uncertain expression touching his features.

"Tell me something," he said.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Did I have a dream about attacking Admiral Dukat, or did that really happen?"

Dax sat back in her chair slightly and Bashir groaned. Renzia waved her hands at him vaguely.

"I did, didn't I?"

"You were hallucinating, Jules," Dax said patiently. "And you didn't hurt him."

Bashir closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

"I thought it was only a dream…" he muttered. "What the hell was I thinking?"

"You may have been thinking that pink fairies were giving you orders, Julian," Dax said. "You're sick. Your fever was higher yesterday than it was today. It's no wonder you were delusional."

He opened one eye, regarding her.

"All these genetic enhancements are supposed to help guard against that kind of thing," he muttered.

Dax leaned forward, putting one arm on the bed, resting her weight on it.

"Enhancements or not, my dear, you are still human. Humans get sick. Everyone gets sick. And there wasn't any harm done. The admiral said you startled him more than hurt him, and Nerys assures me he's fine."

Bashir opened his other eye, sighing.

"Speaking of everyone getting sick, Captain Sisko talked to your parents earlier this morning."

Bashir's eyebrows went up in surprise.

"He did?"

Dax nodded.

"Your mother said that you did have the chicken pox, when you were four."

Bashir frowned.

"Before I was enhanced. That would explain why I don't remember it. But that doesn't explain why I have it now."

"Like I said, I'm a science officer, not a doctor. Simon said he'd look into it, but suggested maybe your enhancements wiped out the immunity effects from the first time you had it."

"Does anyone else on board have it?" he asked.

Dax shook her head.

"No, but that doesn't mean anything. On a station this size, this busy, Jules, you could have picked it up from anyone passing through."

Bashir sighed, then rubbed his eyes with one hand, taking care to keep his hold on his daughter.

"Now, I need to go, because Legate Garak will be here in less than an hour, and First Minister Shakar is arriving later this afternoon."

"Garak…" Bashir muttered, almost to himself.

"What about him?"

Bashir shook his head and the twinge of confusion that had touched the edges of his eyes and the corners of his lips vanished.

"Nothing," he said. "Here."

He handed Renzia back to her mother, who settled her against her shoulder. Dax leaned down and placed a kiss on Bashir's warmer-than-normal lips.

"I'll come by later," she promised.

Bashir gave her a wry, tired look.

"I'm not going anywhere," he sighed.

"Benjamin says your orders are to get better so you're on your feet when the Trisepat gets here."

A smile twitched momentarily on the doctor's pale lips.

"I wouldn't miss that for the galaxy," he said.

* * *

Lieutenant Commander Jadzia Dax resisted shifting her position uncomfortably and forced herself to remain relaxed and smiling. It was rare that she felt so fidgety, but right now, there was no place she'd rather not be than right here, waiting outside an airlock for the Cardassian legate to arrive. Everyone else present, and that included Sisko, O'Brien, Eddington Kira, Odo, and Admiral Dukat, seemed at ease. Dax stole a glance at Sisko and wondered how he was faring; but then, she realized, Jake was being released later that afternoon, before First Minister Shakar arrived, and Tarses had said he was making a remarkable recovery. Young and healthy, Dax thought. She reminded herself that Bashir was young and healthy, too.

Nonetheless, she felt she could be spending time with her sick husband, or their daughter, or in the science lab analyzing this subspace disturbance orbiting Bajor's sun at the edge of the system. She had only had time to run preliminary analyses, enough to know it wasn't anything she'd seen before, at least not at first glance.

But now, she was getting the opportunity to meet Legate Garak. He'd been to the station before, but that had been prior to it becoming an official Starfleet outpost. She had never met him, and, of course, he'd been only a child when Curzon had helped negotiate the merger of the Alliance and the Federation. The legate back then, a man named Letnar, had been hard but intelligent, willing to comprise but utterly unwilling to let his people, or the Bajorans, be dragged into something that would be detrimental to them. Dax had admired him greatly, and had been saddened when he had died. The negotiators for both sides had been more than Curzon had hoped for; they had actually been willing to listen to one another. But then, it wasn't like negotiating with the Klingons, who were more interested in conquest. The Alliance had had a strong and fairly peaceful trading history with the Federation.

She drew her shoulders back slightly, the easy, welcoming smile still on her face as the airlock door rolled back. Two younger Cardassians dressed in the traditional silvery-grey and black military uniforms stepped out: one man and one woman. The Alliance military, of course, had merged with Starfleet, but the legate's personal guard still wore the old Cardassian uniforms.

The legate himself stepped out then, and Dax was surprised to find he looked younger in person than in photographs, and much more pleasant. He radiated an air of superior good humour, topped off by a small smile on his lips and a glint in his pale eyes that suggested he knew something no one else did, and that it was highly amusing. This wasn't reflected in the eyes of his guards, who looked alert and suspicious. With ease, Legate Garak stepped past them, toward Dukat.

"Skrain, my old friend!" Garak said, as, grinning, Dukat shook his hand warmly.

"Elim. It's been too long."

"Indeed it has. How is that lovely wife of yours?"

"She's looking forward to seeing you," Dukat replied with a smile.

Garak turned to Sisko, who nodded.

"Ah, you must be Captain Sisko. The Emissary of the Prophets, if I'm not mistaken."

Dax knew that Sisko was much more comfortable in that roll now than he had been when it had been thrust upon him – it was disconcerting, to say the least, to see the man she'd always known suddenly become a religious figure for billions of Bajorans and Cardassians. While most Bajorans were believers in the Prophets, not all Cardassians embraced the religion. But had been pervasive enough in Cardassian culture before the wormhole had been discovered. Afterwards, there had been a drastic increase in the number of Cardassian followers. Garak was among the Cardassians who wore the traditional Bajoran earring, as was Dukat.

"Legate, it's an honour to meet you," Sisko said. "May I present the station's senior staff? My staff: Commander Kira Nerys, my first officer, Commander Miles O'Brien, my chief of operations, Commander Dax, my chief science officer, and Commander Eddington, my chief of security. And this is head supervisor Odo, who the processing center administrator."

Garak nodded at each one of them in turn, then looked back at Dax.

"It is an honour to finally meet Curzon Dax's successor," he said, and shook her hand.

"Thank you," Dax said warmly. "Curzon was very proud of the work he did with the Alliance."

"He had every right to be," Garak replied. "As do you." He turned back to Sisko. "Captain, it's been a long journey, and I'd appreciate it if you were to show my staff and I to our quarters."

"Of course," Sisko said, smiling. "Right this way."

He gestured to his left and Garak, his guards, Sisko, Dukat, and Eddington all headed away, leaving Dax, Kira, and Odo standing near the airlock. When they were out of sight, Kira let out a deep sigh and leaned against one of the bulkheads. Odo looked toward the ceiling wryly, then back down.

"Frankly, I don't understand why I need to show up at every greeting," he commented.

Kira crossed her arms loosely and gave him a sidelong glance.

"Because you head the ore processing center, which is the reason this station exists in the first place. Believe me, Odo, I don't want to be here any more than you do."

"Neither do I," Dax said with a smile.

"And it's just going to get worse over the next few days," Kira said. "You know, when I joined Starfleet, I never thought most of my time would be spent greeting dignitaries from all over the galaxy. I just wanted to do something constructive for Bajor."

"And the wormhole and the trade with the Trisepat haven't been constructive for Bajor?" Dax asked with a smile.

"I'm not saying it isn't," Kira replied. "It's just not what I was expecting."

"I don't think it's what _any_ of us had been expecting," Dax replied with a smile. "Come on, I'll walk with you back to ops."

"Right. I think we have a few hours before Shakar gets here anyway. I might as well catch up on my paper work."

"Ha," Odo muttered under his breath. "Starfleet paperwork. It's a wonder you people get anything done with all the reports you have to file."

"We muddle through," Dax replied.

"Somehow," Kira added.

They reached the promenade, which was busier now than it had been the day before. A lot of people were showing up at the station; many in the Alpha Quadrant still hadn't met anyone from the Trisepat, and even getting a glimpse of the Gamma Quadrant aliens was something to be sought after.

"I'll leave you ladies here," Odo said.

"All right, but don't forget, coffee at seventeen hundred at the Replimat, before the reception."

Odo rolled his eyes at the mention of the reception planned for Legate Garak and First Minister Shakar, as well as whatever other diplomats and ambassadors and representatives had already arrived.

"I'll be there," he promised.

"I'll bring Renzi," Dax said. "She loves you."

Odo gave her a rare smile.

"I'm glad," he said. "Say hello to Doctor Bashir for me, and wish him well."

Dax nodded.

"I will."

The Changeling shouldered his way through the crowd and Dax and Kira found the nearest turbolift. Mercifully, it was unoccupied save for the two of them as they traveled up to ops.

"How is Julian?"

"Better," Dax said. "Not much, but a bit. Jake's getting out this afternoon, too."

"Oh, good," Kira replied with relief in her voice. "And how's the analysis of that anomaly?"

Dax shook her head.

"If I could get a minute in between introductions to all these political types, I'd be able to tell you something. As it stands, I don't know what it is. It doesn't look like anything on record, but I've barely had a chance to look at it."

"Well, do your best. It doesn't seem to be in a hurry to do anything but orbit the sun, so maybe it will wait until after the Trisepat have come and gone."

"I can only hope," Dax replied, shaking her head, giving Kira a rueful smile. The Commander grinned back.

"Just think of this," she said, gesturing around them, to indicate the coming days, not the turbolift, "As a great adventure."

"I'll do my best," Dax replied with a smile as they stepped from the turbolift into ops.

* * *

An hour later, she hadn't made much progress. The anomaly was like nothing she'd ever seen, and the scans she was running at this distance were giving her nothing but inconclusive results. The only thing she had been able to determine with any degree of certainty is that there was no chronoton activity in the anomaly; it was therefore not a temporal disturbance. It seemed stable enough, for a subspace anomaly, and didn't seem to be inclined to do anything but orbit the sun.

"Commander, I can't do any more analyses from here," Dax said, looking up and meeting Kira's gaze. "I need to take a shuttle out there and study it at close range."

Kira nodded.

"All right, but not today. First Minister Shakar is going to be here in just over an hour, and we enough traffic coming and going today as it is."

Dax nodded. She had intended to ask to go the following day anyway. Her shortened shift was just about finished, and she wanted to pick up her daughter and make sure her husband was all right. She ran a final scan, without much hope of getting anything.

For a mind numbing moment, she felt as if there were two of her, standing in the same place, doing the same thing, thinking the same thoughts, but bringing a slightly different point of view to the problem. She looked down at her hands; they were indeed only one set of hands, but they seemed different somehow, not quite hers. There was a sickening moment of confusion, then it passed as suddenly as it had come. Dax looked up sharply, but everyone else was focused on their work, and had not seemed to notice anything. She did a quick scan of the anomaly again, got no new readings, then ran a sweep of the station, looking for anything unusual. Nothing showed up on internal sensors.

With a sigh, Dax drummed her fingers on the console. Then she shook her head, saved her work, and left to find Kai Bareil and her daughter.


	6. Chapter 6

_A thousand apologies to those who have been waiting, especially siddigfan. I will try to get 7 up sooner._

6

When Simon Tarses replaced the acerbic EMH the next morning, Bashir's fever had gone down considerably and he was feeling much more alert and more himself. Tarses released him on the condition he rest for two more days, until he was fully recovered, and that he wait until Dax could come and meet him to take him back to their quarters. It was about an hour before she came, carrying Renzia in one arm and some clothing for her husband in the other. Bashir changed gratefully out of the infirmary pajamas. Dax wrapped an arm supportively under his shoulders; he still felt weak and tired, but not nearly as bad as he had only two days ago. The pox marks still blazed red on his skin, but at least Tarses given him something to stop the itching.

They walked out into the bustling promenade, and Bashir was surprised by the number of people who had shown up over the last couple of days. Federation citizens, predominantly Bajorans and Cardassians, were walking in groups, talking and laughing, and gawking at the station. Bashir wondered how many more people Terok Nor could possibly hold before they reached their limit. Even then, he was willing to bet people would be staying on ships docked here. As if to prove him right, he saw two people he recognized, but did not know, from the Enterprise: her captain, Picard, and the chief medical officer, Crusher. So the Federation's flagship was already here.

Two Cardassians walking together caught his attention. One was in a Starfleet uniform, but the other was dressed in well tailored, richly coloured clothing that merely hinted at how expensive it was. Bashir frowned.

"Garak," he said.

Dax followed his gaze.

"Yes, he got here yesterday, before First Minister Shakar."

"What's he doing with Dukat? I thought they hated each other."

Dax turned to look at him.

"I'm not sure Simon should have released you," she said frankly. "You seem to be hallucinating again."

Bashir shook his head, as if to clear it.

"I think my brain is a bit addled," he agreed.

"A bit?" Dax asked wryly, arching one dark eyebrow. In her arm, Renzia started to fuss. "Come on, let's go home. I thought those enhancements were supposed to augment the performance of your brain."

"So did I," Bashir agreed, giving her a small, sly smile. She shook her head at him and led him away from the crowd, toward a turbolift. As they passed under one of the upper promenade walkways, Bashir raised his eyes, expecting to see Jake Sisko there. But of course, he was probably in his father's quarters, resting, just as Bashir and Tarses had instructed him to. It was unfortunate; had he had the day off from the processing center, he would have loved to stand and watch all these people mill about.

They made it home slowly; the corridors were almost as busy as the promenade, filled with the faces of Starfleet officers Bashir had never seen before. He watched for people he recognized, but didn't think any of his old friends from the academy would be here, or at least not yet. People gave him odd looks as they went past. He knew he must be a bizarre sight: a bedraggled man with red welts all over his face and hands, being supported by a young woman in science uniform.

Their quarters was a peaceful, silent haven from the bustle in the corridors. Bashir sank gratefully into a chair, and Dax handed him the baby. Renzia met her father's eyes and smiled her wide, toothless baby grin. Bashir fished on the floor for a toy and found a rattle, which he held up for her.

"Gung, gung, gung," he said softly, shaking it for her, and she laughed and reached for it.

"What?" Dax asked.

Bashir looked up.

"Nothing, just making noises. Do you have work to do today?"

"I can see if I can put it off," she replied.

"No, go," he said. "I'll be fine. I sleeps, she sleeps. We have a lot in common."

"I'll see if Miles can come over–"

"Zia," Bashir said, smiling at her, raising his eyebrows. "I can take care of my daughter."

"You're sick," Dax pointed out. "And this is–"

"I know, I know, she's my first child. And you've been a mother before. And a father. And I'm sure you occasionally had to deal with being sick when your children weren't."

Dax crossed her arms, leaning on the arm of the couch, but smiled at him.

"There's a subspace anomaly orbiting the Bajoran sun. Benjamin and I are going to take a run about and look at it. I can't get any concrete readings scanning it from here."

"Any idea what it is?"

She shook her head.

"None."

"I'm surprised Captain Sisko's able to go."

Dax laughed.

"I think he was relieved to find out I needed to go. I'm sure the last thing he wants to be doing right now is greeting more dignitaries. This station is so packed with politicians; even when it came under Starfleet jurisdiction, I don't think this many people were here."

"Much fewer," Bashir agreed.

"Are you sure you'll be all right?" she asked, coming to crouch down in front of him. Renzia's eyes shifted to her mother and she waved one hand. Absently, Dax let her daughter curl a tiny fist around her index finger. With surprising strength, Renzia yanked it toward her mouth and tried to chew on it. Dax pried herself loose and stroked the baby's thin dark hair.

"I'll be fine," Bashir assured her. "If I need help, I'll call Miles, or someone else if he's not available."

"All right," Dax relented. She leaned forward to kiss him and Bashir returned the kiss, feeling like it was the first time they had ever done this. Two days he had been ill, and already being at home with his wife felt brand new again. He smiled as Dax pulled away.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing. I love you."

She kissed his forehead.

"I love you, too, Jules."

He caught her hand and kissed her palm as she stood up.

"I'm a lucky man," he said.

Dax's eyes sparkled as she looked down at him.

"You'd better remember that," she replied. "I'll see you in about four hours."

"Have fun," he said as she walked back to the door. She tossed him a grin over her shoulder and was gone. Bashir watched the door hiss shut and turned his attention back to Renzia. "Now, what do with you?" he asked. She grinned her baby grin and drooled on her chin. Bashir set her on his lap, glanced around, picked up a thick, brightly coloured book from the table beside him, and opened it to read to her.

* * *

Bashir took a nap when his daughter did, sleeping on the couch, Renzia sprawled on his chest. He awoke before she did, feeling even better. However he'd contracted the chicken pox, it seemed his genetically enhanced immune system was picking up and fighting back. For a rare moment, he was grateful that his parents had done to him. It had given him distinct advantages, he knew, but he had never expected that recovering quickly from a children's illness would be one of them. At least, not at the age of thirty-three.

He sat up carefully, making sure to support his daughter's small head, and glanced around.

"Computer, time," he said quietly.

"The time is thirteen hundred twenty-two," the computer replied at normal volume. Bashir winced, but Renzia didn't stir. He stood up, balancing her easily, and went into his bedroom, putting her down gently on the bed. Then he washed up, keeping one ear open for any sounds from the baby. She was just waking up when he walked back into the bedroom, so Bashir changed her and fed her, then wondered what he was going to do. He felt bored, which he knew was a good sign about his health. He had been cloistered in the infirmary for two days, with Dax and Tarses as his only real company, unless he counted the EMH that always drove him nuts. Sometimes, Bashir considered he should have accepted the LMH of himself; at least he would get along with it.

He decided to head down to the promenade, knowing he'd probably regret it later when exhaustion caught up with him. But the prospect of sitting at home with only an infant for company was too much to face right now. He strapped Renzia into her baby carrier, which she loved, because she faced front and could see everything. Satisfied she was secure, he headed out of the habitat ring, nodding at the officers he recognized, which, at the moment, was only about half of them.

The promenade was just as a crowded as it had been when he had been released from the infirmary. Bashir stood at the edge of the press of bodies for a moment, just watching. There were already some people from the Trisepat here, of course; trading ships came and went all of the time. Bashir watched two tall female Gri'Thethi make their way through the crowd with an easy grace. A Bajoran-looking woman caught his eye as she shouldered her way past the shrine. Bashir recognized her immediately; she was Tenas Lar, the only other Changeling who lived on the station. She was a much more adept shape shifter than Odo, having been found adrift almost seven hundred years ago. Unlike Odo, she was much more social and interested in humanoid culture, and was considered just as Bajoran as any other Bajoran by most people. She vanished a moment later in the sea of faces.

Bashir headed toward where she had been, entering the sanctuary of the shrine. It was empty, for which he was grateful; with this many Bajorans and Cardassians on the station, it was usually occupied. Its peaceful silence beckoned him, so much different than the silence of his empty quarters. There, it was just boring; here, it was serene. Renzia looked around, making baby sounds to herself, as Bashir walked quietly toward the orb at the front of the room. He thought he recognized it as the Orb of Contemplation, but he wasn't certain. Kira or Bareil would know. He stared at it pensively for a moment, then absently took one of his daughter's tiny hands. When he and Dax had decided to have a baby, Kira had come here to say a prayer for them. Bashir wasn't a believer in the prophets, but he was a doctor, and he knew that any help in cross-species mating would be beneficial. He wondered if the wormhole aliens actually listened to any requests their followers made, or if they even knew they had followers.

A noise behind him distracted him and he spun quickly to see a Cardassian man entering the shrine.

"Ah, Doctor, forgive me, I didn't mean to startle you," Dukat said.

Bashir felt his mouth go dry for a moment, and felt an inexplicable need to get his daughter as far away from the admirable as possible. Chastising himself sharply, he reined in his emotions and nodded at Dukat.

"I think it's only fair, considering how much I startled you two days ago."

The Cardassian chuckled a quiet, almost arrogant chuckle.

"Water under the bridge, Doctor."

Bashir nodded and headed toward the shrine's exit, leaving Dukat alone to his prayers or meditation. He emerged onto the promenade again, glancing around, then frowned, standing still. Renzia kicked her small legs and waved her arms, distracting him slightly. Bashir studied the crowd intently, then realized with a start what was missing.

There wasn't a single Romulan to be seen.

He stepped down one of the steps leading into the shrine, then paused again.

What the hell was a Romulan?

He suddenly had a very vivid image of a race of people related to Vulcans, but with harsher features and attitudes. Bashir blinked, then shook his head, sighing to himself. His mind was still playing tricks on him. He probably needed nothing more than to return home and rest. Suddenly, coming to the promenade seemed like a bad idea.

"Hi, Julian," a voice said next to him and he looked round to see Ezri Reth. Bashir's face relaxed into a smile.

"Ezri, hi."

"How are you feeling? You look much better."

"I'm getting there," Bashir replied wryly. "Although my brain is still porridge. I keep coming up with ridiculous ideas that have no bearing to reality."

Ezri laughed. Renzia, aware of a new person, make noises of protestation from her baby carrier.

"Oh, all right," Bashir conceded. "Would you like to hold her? I think she's aiming for that."

"Sure," Reth agreed and Bashir lifted the baby out of the carrier and handed her to the counselor. He took the carrier off and slung it over one shoulder. They stepped into the crowds together.

"So, what kind of things is that genetically enhanced mind coming up with?" Reth asked.

"I just invented an entire race of people and wondered why they weren't here."

Reth laughed again, shaking her head.

"Did they have a name, this mystery race?"

"Romulans."

Reth raised a dark brow.

"Romulans? That's inventive."

"Not really," Bashir said dryly. "Romulus was one of the two founders of Rome, which is a city on Earth and the capital of one of Earth's ancient empires."

"Yes, and how many people on this station just happen to know that?" Reth asked. "I didn't. It's inventive to me that you'd base a whole race off of one possibly historic figure from Earth. What did these Romulans look like?"

"Angry Vulcans."

Reth grinned at him.

"I sense a deep-seated resentment of Vulcans and a need to vilify them without expressly indicating that it's them."

Bashir rolled his eyes.

"Right, I hate all Vulcans. I sense the mind of a man who's still sick, and a counselor who likes to make up problems."

Reth laughed.

"On this station, I don't need to make them up. I never knew there were so many crazy people in the galaxy."

"Me included?" Bashir asked.

"Of course," she replied smoothly.

"Well I hardly think it's fair–" Bashir was abruptly cut off by a tall, imposing figure pushing brusquely past them, jostling Ezri and Renzia, causing the baby to start crying.

"Hey!" Bashir snapped, reaching out automatically to grab an arm and spin the stranger around. He was confronted by a looming Klingon man accompanied by a tall, stately Klingon woman. The Klingon man's eyes narrowed, drawing his already prominent brows together.

"What?" he rumbled.

"Watch where you're going!" Bashir snapped. "She's carrying a baby!"

"Perhaps she should watch where she's going," the Klingon replied, his voice low and taut.

"She wasn't in the way," Bashir retorted. "You could easily have moved."

The Klingon swung , but Bashir reacted faster, catching the man's arm and pulling him into the direction of the blow. Bracing himself, the doctor heaved, using reserves of strength he rarely ever called up, and flipped the Klingon over his back, onto the floor. Stunned, the Klingon landed on his back and Bashir was kneeling on his chest immediately, nose to nose with the alien.

"That's my daughter you hit," he hissed. "And Ezri is my friend."

He became aware of a shocked silence around him, then a rich, appreciative laughter rang out. The Klingon woman said something in her own language, to which the Klingon man growled a reply. Shocked at himself, Bashir pushed himself to his feet and saw the Klingon woman grinning approvingly at him.

"There are not many humans who would dare to do that, let alone succeed," she said. "Get up, Worf."

Bashir was jarred by the memory of the name; he'd said that same name to Dax just the day before. But his shock over that was subsumed by his shock at his actions. The Klingon man pushed himself to his feet and gave the doctor an approving nod before turning and walking away with the woman. Bashir turned back to Reth, who had one hand over her mouth and was, amazingly, trying not to laugh. Bashir looked around, saw the stunned onlookers, and grabbed one of Reth's arms, towing her out of the way, into the relative security of a support pillar.

"What?" he hissed.

Reth's blue eyes were glinting.

"I had no idea you knew so much about Klingons," she whispered. "Do you know who that was?"

"I don't know anything about Klingons!" Bashir replied. "I have no idea who that was!"

"That was Worf, son of Mohg. The woman with him was his wife, Trelke, daughter of Kena. She's the Klingon ambassador to the Federation and the Trisepat. Klingons set great store by their ability to stand up to any kind of adversity. You really impressed them."

Bashir sagged against the wall.

"I didn't know that," he muttered. "I just– no, I _did_ know that. Or I felt like I knew it."

Reth took his arm gently.

"Come on, Julian. You've been in enough altercations to last you awhile. You're still sick. You need to get back to your quarters."

Shaking his head at himself, Bashir fell into step beside her, too bewildered to protest.

* * *

"What do you think, old man?"

Dax studied the readings on her console, then shook her head.

"It seems pretty boring, as far as subspace anomalies go, Benjamin," she admitted.

"I can't even see it." Sisko sounded disappointed.

Dax laughed.

"What did you expect to see, Benjamin?" she asked.

"I don't know." Sisko waved one hand vaguely. "Something… blue."

"Blue," Dax repeated, arching one eyebrow. "Interesting. Well, it's not giving off any radiation as far as I can tell. I'm getting the same readings I was getting on the station, which is nothing. No chronotons, no tachyons, not even normal background radiation."

"Well, that's odd, isn't it?"

"It is," Dax agreed. "Let's get in a bit closer so I can do a detailed sensor sweep."

"Taking us to fifty thousand kilometers," Sisko agreed. Dax inputted the scan details into the computer and waiting as the shuttle approached the coordinates. It slowed again, and she initiated the scan.

"Now I'm picking up trace amounts of some sort of radiation. The computer can't seem to identify it. It's almost as if it's leaking from the anomaly, Benjamin."

"Like it's coming out the other side?" Sisko asked.

"Precisely."

"Could we be seeing the formation of another wormhole?"

Dax shook her head.

"I doubt it. I see no evidence of verteron nodes, or any of the neutrino patterns that characterize our wormhole. And the radiation coming through isn't the normal background radiation for the Alpha, Beta, or Gamma Quadrants."

"What about the Delta Quadrant?"

"Well, I suppose that were possible, but again, it doesn't look like a wormhole."

"It isn't a Borg transwarp tunnel, is it?"

"If it is, we're in for a huge surprise. It doesn't have a transwarp signature, though. I don't suppose the Trisepat have any transwarp technology we're not aware of and are building a tunnel here?"

"If they do, we're not aware of it," Sisko pointed out. Dax rolled her eyes at him.

"Let's get in a little closer," she said. "I can do a better gravometric analysis."

"All right," Sisko agreed and brought the shuttle closer.

"Initiating gravometric scan."

"How's Julian?"

"He's doing much better, he's–"

The words were lost suddenly as a jarring sensation of displacement hit her. It was the same feeling she'd had the other day in ops, the certainty that there were two of her, in the same spot, only somewhat different, as if someone had held up a slightly warped mirror that showed a not-quite accurate reflection of herself. She felt different emotions, different memories on the edge of her mind. Moving as if through syrup, she looked over at Sisko, was looking just as stunned as she felt. For a moment, he blurred, and appeared in a different uniform, a black jacket with grey shoulders, and a red mock turtleneck underneath. And no hair. That Sisko's image turned to her, his dark eyes widening in surprise.

"Get us out of here, Benjamin," she managed to say, hoping the Benjamin who came with her was the right one. She saw him move, but slowly, then the shuttle began to move backwards and whatever had ahold of them vanished. Dax gasped, hearing Sisko echo her, and sat back in her seat.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

Dax shook her head.

"I think we may have found an interdimensional rip," she replied.

"Into what?"

She turned her head, meeting his eyes.

"Another universe."


	7. Chapter 7

7

When Dax arrived home, Bashir was waiting for her. Renzia was sleeping again, and he had been enjoying a cup of tea and catching up on some of his leisure reading when his wife stepped through the doorway. He put his cup aside immediately and rose quickly, shocked by the stunned, tired look on her face.

"Zia?" he asked.

She crossed the room, took his face and kissed him hard. Bashir was caught off guard for a moment, then wrapped his arms around her and kissed back. When she pulled away from him, he caught her face in his hands.

"What's the matter?"

"Benjamin and I think we've figured out what that anomaly is," she said.

"What?"

"An interdimensional rip into another universe."

Bashir's eyebrows shot up. Dax sat down, raising her blue eyes to meet his dark ones. Bashir sat down beside her quickly, blinking away the spots in front of his eyes. He had risen then sat down too quickly for his still-sick body's comfort.

"Really?" he asked.

Dax nodded.

"Jules, it was so– strange. I've never, ever experienced anything like that before."

He took one of her hands.

"What happened?"

"I felt like there were two of me, superimposed on the same spot. Two Jadzia Daxs. And believe me, that's a weird feeling, even for a joined Trill." She paused, sighing. "I could almost remember the memories of this other Jadzia. And there were two Benjamins. I remember that. I could see him, I mean, the other Benjamin, as if he had been sitting beside me."

"What did he look like? Our Sisko?"

Dax pursed her lips, shaking her head.

"No," she said slowly. "I remember I saw it clearly then, but I'm having troubles remembering it now. The uniform was different, and he had no hair. I think."

"No hair?"

Dax nodded. Bashir raised his eyebrows again.

"Any idea what caused this rip?"

Dax shook her head.

"Not yet, but for all we know, it could have been there for millennia before we spotted it. But now I've got some data on it, and I can get a better idea of its orbit. That might give us some answers."

"Is there any way to go through it?"

"I don't know," she replied, squeezing his hand. "I'm not sure I'd want to."

"You're not curious about this other Jadzia?"

She gave him a sidelong look.

"Yes," she replied. "But what if she's so different from me as to be unrecognizable to me? What if she made choices that would horrify me? For all I know, Jules, she never met or married you. Or she's dead."

Bashir felt a tight twist in his stomach. He couldn't imagine not ever having met Dax, having lived his whole life without her, or knowing her and not being married to her. The idea unsettled him so much it must have shown on his face, because Dax put a hand on his cheek and turned his face toward hers.

"This is my universe, Julian," she said. "Whatever happens in that one only happens there."

Bashir nodded.

"You're looking better," she commented.

"And you're changing the subject," he replied.

She smiled.

"Yes, I am. I'd rather talk about things happening here, at least right now."

"Well, I may look better, but my brain isn't yet," he replied wryly, then told her about inventing a whole race of people on the promenade, to which she laughed. He also told her about the encounter with the Klingon, because if he didn't, Sisko would, and she'd be furious with him. Her eyes widened at that story.

"You took on a Klingon?" she asked when he was finished.

"I wasn't really thinking," he admitted.

"I'll say." She rose and then leaned down to kiss his forehead. "Were Renzi and Ezri all right?"

"Just fine," he replied.

"Even after all these years, Julian Bashir, you still manage to surprise me sometimes."

"Good," he said with a smile.

* * *

Bashir lay awake well after Dax had gone to sleep, listening to the sound of her breathing next to him, to the faint hum of the station's life support system, to the sounds of his daughter's breathing in the next room. He gazed blankly through the darkness at the ceiling, the cold Cardassian architecture that joined the walls, bleak grey on grey.

He thought about this other universe Dax and Sisko had discovered. He wondered if there was another Julian Bashir over there, and, if so, what he was like. Dax didn't seem particularly interested in her alternate self, but Bashir knew that it was more the shock of the discovery. For his own part, he was immensely curious. Was this other Bashir genetically enhanced as well? Had he and Dax been married as long, were they married at all? Again, that thought made him uneasy. If they hadn't married, there would be no Renzia, and Bashir couldn't imagine a life without his daughter. What would occupy this other Bashir's life? Was it full of family, friends…

Romulans?

He sat up quickly, dragging the blankets with him halfway so that Dax's shoulders were exposed, but she didn't stir. He looked down at her, not really seeing his wife, but thinking hard.

Had he really made up those Romulans, or did they exist somewhere?

"Zia," he whispered in the darkness. "Jadzia."

She stirred, then began to sit up automatically.

"I'll get her," Dax muttered sleepily and Bashir put a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head.

"No," he whispered. "Renzi's still asleep. I need to ask you something."

She peered at him blearily.

"Can't it wait until morning? You should be sleeping, too."

"It probably could, but then I couldn't sleep. Do you think that interdimensional rip could be affecting this station?"

Dax blinked tiredly at him.

"What? Why?"

"Think of all the strange things that have been happening on this station. The explosion in ore processing, me getting sick, the power drain we had the other day."

Dax sat up, adjusting the blankets over her knees. Her long hair hung loosely over her shoulders, spilling down her back and across her arms, and Bashir thought she never looked as beautiful as she did when her hair was down.

"I suppose it's possible," she conceded, starting to wake up now, as she always did when she was talking about a scientific problem. "But I don't think the anomaly's come anywhere near here. It looks like it's in a stable orbit. I don't see why it would be affecting Terok Nor and not any of the planets or moons in the system."

"What if it's just me?" he asked.

"You?"

"Well, what if those Romulans I imagined aren't just imaginary? What if they exist over there? And the Klingon I attacked today, Worf. Do you remember the other day in the infirmary when I asked you were Worf was? I didn't know who he was then, but maybe the Julian over there does know him."

Dax blinked.

"But, Jules, why you?" she asked. "You're not a telepath, or sensitive to telepathic influences."

"I am genetically enhanced," he pointed out.

"Somehow, I don't think that would get an anomaly's attention," Dax replied. "But you may be onto something with the things that have been happening on the station. I'll look into it tomorrow."

Bashir smiled at her.

"Thank you. I should be able to sleep now."

Dax grinned wickedly and reached for him.

"Oh, no, you won't," she promised.

* * *

When Bashir awoke the next morning, Dax was already gone, but he had a vague memory of her waking him up to kiss him goodbye. He groaned, rolling out of bed, then pushing himself to his feet to check on his daughter. She had woken up four times during the night, and he felt worn out from it. Not to mention that Dax had kept him up, but that hadn't been so bad. He grinned to himself. It hadn't been bad at all.

He hurried and washed up during the few precious minutes he had before his daughter woke up, and was just pulling on his uniform, more out of habit than necessity, when Renzia woke up. He rescued her from her crib, changed her and was feeing her when the door chime sounded.

"Come in!" he called and was greeted by the sight of O'Brien with Kirayoshi in his arms. Bashir's face relaxed into a smile.

"Miles, hello," he said.

"Thought you might want to join me for breakfast," the commander said. "Molly's in school, and Keiko hasn't gotten back from that botanical survey on Bajor Eight, so it's just me and Yoshi."

"The lament of fatherhood," Bashir said with a grin. "We'd love to come. Replimat?"

"Where else?"

They made their way down to the replimat, and Bashir was certain that the promenade was even busier than it had been the day before. He said as much to O'Brien, who laughed mirthlessly.

"Tell me about it," O'Brien agreed. "Last night, just before I finished my shift, we got a communiqué from Starfleet Command. It turns out some genius bumped up a deep space mission without thinking about the Trisepat coming here. Now we have the _Voyager_ on her way through to the Gamma Quadrant."

"The _Voyager_?" Bashir asked as they sat down at one of the few empty tables. Beside them was a female Gri'Thethi was eating with a male Hendulu and a female Kbsai. Bashir watched them surreptitiously for a moment; the Gri'Thethi and the Hendulu were two of the three founding races of the Trisepat, and the Kbsai had been the fourth race to join. Bashir scanned the area quickly; he didn't see any Shifters. It didn't mean there weren't any around. Like the Changelings, they could assume any form they wanted, but unlike Odo's people, they were limited to humanoid forms. They could be taking any shape, Bashir knew, but they tended to stick with their own base form when visiting other places.

"Sure, you remember, don't you? It came through here a few years ago. Its a deep space exploratory ship, and the crew was doing some studies in the Badlands. Captain Janeberg, or something."

"Janeway," Bashir corrected as O'Brien settled Kirayoshi in a chair and rose to go to the replicators.

"What do you want?" O'Brien asked.

"Scones and jam, and Tarkalian tea," Bashir replied. O'Brien returned a moment later with a tray loaded down with food and gave his son the first plate. Immediately, Kirayoshi dug into it, eating with gusto and using only his hands. Bashir accepted his breakfast gratefully.

"That's right," O'Brien said. "Janeway."

"I thought they were already on a deep space mission," Bashir said, confused. "Weren't they– Weren't they headed for the Delta Quadrant?"

O'Brien laughed, raising his coffee cup to his lips.

"Whatever Simon's giving you, it must be good," he said. "You're thinking of the _Kejada_ and the _Tre'sov_. The _Voyager_ was doing some Beta Quadrant exploration, but they've been back for six months, according to the information we received last night. Now they're headed for the Gamma Quadrant."

"Good timing," Bashir commented wryly.

"You're telling me. Kira was one unhappy ex-oh last night. I'm glad I'm not on duty when she tells Sisko."

"Hopefully they can detour to Deep Space Eight instead."

"Here's hoping," O'Brien agreed.

Bashir grinned over his mug, then set it down to adjust his grip on his daughter. Looking up, he caught the eye of the Gri'Thethi woman, nodded at her, then something else snagged his attention. He frowned, gazing through the crowd at a civilian man who was watching him intently. He looked instantly familiar, but Bashir couldn't place him. Something about his rugged face and cold eyes stood out in Bashir's memory, but he was certain he'd never seen the man before. But it was as if the other man knew the doctor, the way he was glaring…

Bashir saw the Gri'Thethi woman follow his gaze, and saw her rise, as if in slow motion. Her two companions stood half a second after she did, turning in the direction of the man, who looked startled and began to move away. The Hendulu made a quick gesture with his wrist at the same time that the Gri'Thethi said:

"That man is a spy."

She did not speak loudly, or with much emphasis, but it seemed everyone on the promenade had heard her. The murmur of conversation vanished, and heads began to turn, in the direction of the man and of the Trisepat citizens.

"Sloan," Bashir whispered, then realized he was standing.

"You know him?" O'Brien demanded.

The man, Sloan, was struggling against the Hendulu's telekinetic grip but failing.

"No. Yes. I don't know. But he knows me." Bashir replied in a daze, then snapped out of it and hit his combadge with his free hand. "Bashir to security!"

"Eddington here, go ahead, Doctor."

"We have a situation down on the promenade, Commander. We need you down here."

"Understood. Eddington out."

No one had moved, and the three Trisepat citizens were still standing around their table, silently, but Bashir suspected they were communicating telepathically. The Gri'Thethi and the Kbsai were both telepathic races, and it would be easy for them to include the Hendulu in their mental conversation. Irrelevantly, Bashir wondered if there were any Betazoids there privy to the unspoken words.

O'Brien moved then, as Eddington and his officers showed up. The engineer took Renzia from the doctor's arms.

"What's the problem?" Eddington demanded. The sound of his voice, the somehow strangeness of it, shook Bashir back to reality. He gestured vaguely to the Trisepat citizens.

"That man is a spy," the Gri'Thethi said firmly. Eddington raised his eyebrows, turning toward the trapped Sloan.

"I think his name is Sloan," Bashir said.

"You know him, Doctor?" Eddington asked, sending his two officers to detain the man, reliving the Hendulu of his telekinetic duties.

"I think I might," Bashir said carefully.

"Then you'll have to come with me," Eddington said. "This should be an interesting story. You're a very popular man with security lately, Doctor."

"Must be my charm," Bashir replied, one corner of his mouth twitching in a wry half-smile. He glanced at O'Brien who nodded his assent about taking care of Renzia, then followed Eddington from the replimat, keeping his eyes on Sloan, who glared piercingly, threateningly, at him before being hauled off.


	8. Chapter 8

8

The holding area of Eddington's security office was packed. Bashir was sitting down, feeling tired again now, although around him, everyone else was standing. Sisko was there, and seemed displeased as all hell, his dark face and eyes stormy and forbidding. The Gri'Thethi woman was there, too, at Eddington's request, and Admiral Dukat had been called down, and was giving Sloan the cool glare of a Cardassian.

"You said his name is Sloan, Doctor?" Eddington asked.

Bashir nodded.

"Luther Sloan," the Gri'Thethi, whose name was An'Hanai supplied. Sloan shot her a look and she shook her head. "That won't work," she informed him. "I am far better trained than you are."

Bashir supposed that Sloan had been trying to hide information from her telepathic searching. He knew it wouldn't work; Gri'Thethi were one of the most adept telepathic species known to the Federation.

"How do you know him, Doctor?" Sisko asked.

"I'm not sure I do," Bashir replied, to which Sisko arched an eyebrow. "He looks familiar, and I know his name, but I don't know where I know him from."

"That's unusual for you, Julian," Sisko said.

"I know," Bashir replied.

"Who do you work for?" Dukat demanded of the prisoner.

"Internal Affairs," Sloan replied. Bashir's eyes narrowed and An'Hanai said:

"He's lying."

Dukat looked back at her expectantly.

"Something called Section Thirty-One."

The name sounded vaguely familiar to Bashir, and must have been to Dukat, because the spun back to Sloan, anger radiating off of him.

"You will explain to me how your organization survived, and you will tell me how many of you there are. If I have to get the answer from An'Hanai, things will go worse for you than they already are, I promise you that."

"What's Section Thirty-One?" Sisko asked.

"They used to be a rogue Federation intelligence organization. They were disbanded when they Alliance and the Federation merged. Or so we thought," Dukat said, his voice low.

"According to Mister Sloan, they are operating without the knowledge of the Federation Council or Starfleet Command," An'Hanai said.

Dukat's cold eyes raked over Sloan's face.

"The fact that she had to tell me that does not bode well for you, Mister Sloan." He turned away from the stunned-looking prisoner to face Sisko. "Captain, I suggest we get in touch with Starfleet Command and the Federation Council immediately. Mister Eddington, I want transportation of the highest security to Earth arranged for our guest. I think there may be a few people in Starfleet who have some questions for him. And perhaps he would like to give us the names of his colleagues. I'd hate to have to resort to further telepathic intervention."

"Of course, sir," Eddington replied. "Doctor Bashir, I need to ask you some questions."

"Later," Sisko interjected. "Right now, Doctor Bashir is going to the infirmary. Don't argue with me, Julian, you're still on medical leave, and you look like you're going to collapse. Come on."

With an inward sigh, Bashir pushed himself to his feet and followed his CO and Dukat from the holding area. He glanced back once and saw Sloan watching him, with a cold, calculating stare.

_You won't get me this time_, Bashir thought.

* * *

Sisko left him at the infirmary, leaving Bashir to feel as if he were a package being shunted around. He took a seat on a exam bed and peeled off his uniform jacket. He had been chilly that morning, and had put on a long sleeved green uniform shirt. He pushed those sleeves up above his elbows now and waited until Tarses came in.

"If you don't stop overexerting yourself, Julian, I'll have to make you stay here again," the other doctor warned.

"Believe me, I had no intention of getting involved with this Sloan."

Tarses arched an eyebrow as only someone with Vulcan heritage could do.

"Need I remind you of your confrontation with the Klingon yesterday?"

"No," Bashir sighed as Tarses examined him. The half-Vulcan frowned slightly, then shook his head.

"You're still running a mild fever. I am keeping you here until this afternoon. You need to rest."

Bashir sighed, but nodded.

"I will get you something to eat and drink," Tarses said. "In the meantime, I want you to lie down and stay lying down."

Obediently, Bashir swung his legs onto the bed and lay down, crossing his hands on his stomach. Tarses gave a satisfied nod and left the room, dimming the lights on his way out. Bashir lay still for a moment, thinking of his daughter, wondering if Dax had gone off duty to take care of her. Was it always like this for Starfleet families? Or any family stationed on a station or starship? Keiko O'Brien wasn't in Starfleet, after all, but her botany work in this sector and the Gamma Quadrant kept both her and Miles busy juggling schedules and children. Bashir wondered how Sisko had managed it after his wife had died.

He was filled with a strong desire to go home, to see his wife and daughter, but he knew better than to contravene Tarses' orders. Instead, he shut his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep.

When he awoke, he was still alone in the infirmary, and there was no sign of Tarses or any food. Bashir frowned and eased himself from the bed, straining his sensitive hearing. He could only hear the sound of his own breathing and the machines in the infirmary.

"Simon?" he called, heading for the door, looking out into the rest of the infirmary. It appeared empty. Bashir tapped his combadge. "Computer, locate Doctor Simon Tarses." Only silence answered his request. "Computer, respond." He tapped the badge again. "Bashir to Tarses. Bashir to Dax. Come in, Jadzia. Bashir to anyone who can hear me, please respond."

Again, only silence.

Bashir stepped fully into the corridor, turning toward the main entrance, and jerked when the doors hissed open suddenly. A man strode in, then glanced up before stopping dead in his tracks. Julian Bashir and Julian Bashir stared at each other. Dax's husband recovered first, suddenly noticing the other Bashir's uniform was different than his own. The jacket was black with grey shoulders, and he wore a teal coloured shirt underneath, with his lieutenant's rank pips attacked to the mock-turtleneck.

"Julian," he said.

"Yes," the other man said in his own voice. "You, too, I suppose."

"Yes."

They stared at each other for a moment longer, then Bashir shook his head.

"What in the hell–" he began.

The scene vanished and Bashir blinked himself awake, startled. He sat up part way, glancing around the infirmary room, and saw a tray of food waiting for him. Relieved, he began to sit up the rest of the way when a strong hand pressed him back down on the bed. A face came into his vision suddenly, a rugged, angry looking face.

"You won't get away so quickly, Doctor," Sloan whispered.

"What the hell?" Bashir cursed, sitting up quickly, startling the other man into backing off slightly. The doctor smacked his combadge. "Bashir to security! Sloan's escaped!"

"They can't hear you," Sloan assured him. "I took the liberty of deactivating your combadge. And don't bother shouting for Doctor Tarses or any of your nurses. They're all unavailable at the moment."

"How dare you?" Bashir hissed, jumping from the bed and grabbing Sloan. Sloan wrestled with him, until they were deadlocked, gripping each other so hard Bashir could feel bruises forming.

"Couldn't let you get away from me that easily, Doctor."

"Get away from you!" Bashir snapped. "I don't even know you!"

"You knew my name. You have so memory of me."

"I have a great memory," Bashir growled. "And I know I've never met you before."

"No," Sloan said. "The man who lets his wife call him Jules Bashir has never met me, or any other Luther Sloan before. You and I, Doctor, we're old friends."

"I _am_ Jules Bashir!" Bashir snapped.

Sloan grinned a cold, mirthless grin.

"Deep down, you know that isn't true. You don't belong here, Julian, any more than I do."

Bashir snapped, tightening his grip even more on Sloan, managing to grab the other man by the collar and yank Sloan toward him.

"This. Is. My. Home." he said, spitting out each word furiously. "I don't know what the hell you're doing, but it won't work."

Sloan laughed darkly.

"Deep Space Nine is your home, Doctor. Not Terok Nor. Don't you understand? You're the wrong Julian in the wrong universe."

Bashir felt himself go cold. All the strange things he had felt or thought during the past few days rushed back to him, the Romulans, Worf, suspicions about Dukat, familiarity with Legate Garak. Sloan must have seen the shock on his face, because he nodded.

"How many healthy adults get chicken pox, Doctor?" he asked. "In our universe, most of them would. We don't have it there. The Julian Bashir here already had them, when he was a child. You never did. Why else would you get it? Your body was never exposed to it."

Moving so fast he didn't even think, Bashir drew an arm back and drove his fist into Sloan's face. The other man grunted, slumping in Bashir's grip, and the doctor let him fall to the floor. Bashir turned, hurrying toward the doorway, but he heard the high pitched whine of a forcefield.

The infirmary doors hissed open and Eddington, another security officer, Dax, and Sisko rushed in.

"Julian!" Dax exclaimed.

"Sloan escaped," Bashir said quickly. "And he's not from here. He came through that interdimensional rift."

Eddington and his lieutenant set to work deactivating the force field, then the commander sent the woman off to check on the medical staff. Bashir stepped into the corridor once the force field was down and Eddington hurried into the room, cuffing Sloan and dragging him to his feet. He threw the other man on the bed and bound his legs for good measure.

"I think I know how he came through the rift," Dax said. "I thought it was in a stable orbit, but I was able to do some more analyses with the data I collected yesterday. It's not. It passed through here four days ago, Julian."

Bashir nodded.

"That must have been how he got here, then."

"But why would he come here?" Sisko asked.

"He's after me," Bashir replied.

"What? Why you?"

"Because I'm not the Julian Bashir who's supposed to be here," he replied.

"What?" Sisko and Dax asked at once.

Bashir nodded to Sloan's unconscious form.

"He told me as much, but I was already starting to suspect."

"You can't believe something he would tell you, Doctor," Sisko pointed out.

"No, sir, I believe my own reasoning," Bashir replied. "I have memories I shouldn't have, of races that don't exist here, or things that never happened in this time line."

"But you have all of your memories, too," Dax pointed out.

Bashir nodded.

"I know. I think – I'm not sure, but I think – it may be because I switched places with the Julian from here. I don't think Sloan did that. I think he came through deliberately."

"If that's true, what can we do about it?" Sisko asked.

"I need to get back," Bashir replied. "And the Julian who belongs here needs to get back here. I can take a shuttle into the anomaly. If I'm right, he and I switched when the anomaly passed through the station. We could switch again at the anomaly."

"No," Dax said. "You're assuming he's figured it out and will do the same thing. If you're wrong, you could end up dead in space and he could end up stuck over there."

Bashir really looked at her for the first time since she had arrived and saw the pain her blue eyes. He hesitated. He couldn't very well abandon her without any husband. But he was not her husband. The other Bashir was. He could no more abandon that Bashir to his universe.

"We'll bring it here," Dax said.

"How?" Sisko asked.

"We can use the station's deflector array to create a gravitational pulse, and aim it directly at the anomaly. If we match the frequency with the background radiation leaking from the anomaly, we should be able to attract it without attracting anything else."

"I want simulations," Sisko said. "I don't need a planet crashing into my station the day before the Trisepat gets here. Work with Commander O'Brien. Wait. Julian, are you sure about this?"

"Yes, sir," Bashir said. "And if I'm wrong, we should be able to switch again."

"What if you just stayed here, and he stayed there? You have his memories; he must have yours."

"But I'm starting to regain my memories. We have to assume he's starting to regain his. Eventually, we'd both have overlapping memories of our entire lives. And, if I'm right," he glanced at Dax and drew a deep breath, "Then Jadzia is not my wife, and Renzia is not my child, but his."

Dax looked hurt and confused, but she didn't say anything, and Bashir understood how she felt. He felt the same way, torn between this life and the one he was starting to remember. He wondered if he were married to Dax over there. He tried to remember, but the memories slipped away. And Dax deserved her real husband, and Renzia her real father.

"Dax?" Sisko asked.

"I'll get started right away," she said. "One way or another, we'll sort this out."

"What about Sloan, Captain?" Eddington asked.

"See if you can get that Hendulu's help with him. And An'Hanai. He must have better mental defenses than she thought to hide his origins. And if there's any Section Thirty-One officers operating in this universe, I want to know about it."

"Understood," Eddington said. His lieutenant returned, reported that she'd revived the drugged medical staff, and helped Eddington with Sloan.

"I take it you're a doctor over there, Julian?" Sisko asked.

"Yes, sir," Bashir replied.

"Take care of Simon and Jabara. Dax, you're with me."

"Right," she said, glancing back at Bashir as Sisko turned away. She hesitated for a moment, then stepped toward him, clasped his face between her hands and kissed him on the lips. Bashir kissed back.

"We'll sort this out," he promised in a whisper.

"I know," she replied, then vanished from the infirmary.

* * *

Bashir tended to Tarses and Jabara, then returned home. Bareil came by with Renzia, and Bashir was not at all surprised that care of his daughter – the other Bashir's daughter – had changed hands. It seemed to be the norm on this station.

"How are you?" Bareil asked as he returned Renzia to Bashir.

"Confused," Bashir replied, getting a bottle for the baby from the replicator and sitting down on the couch. He gestured for Bareil to take a seat and the kai did, sinking gracefully into the chair opposite the doctor.

"I'm not surprised. Are you absolutely certain about this, Julian? I don't want to see you give up your life for this if you aren't certain."

Bashir sighed and nodded.

"I understand. Believe me. But yes, I'm sure. What Sloan said to me made sense. Why would I get the chicken pox otherwise? In my universe we don't have them anymore. Not to mention all the other strange things I've felt and thought over the past few days."

"Nerys wanted me to ask," Bareil said.

"I appreciate that," Bashir replied.

"May I try something?" the kai asked. Bashir nodded and Bareil extended his left arm, gripping Bashir's right ear gently. Bashir knew the kai rarely did this; it was a tradition that had largely faded under his spiritual guidance. He watched the kai's face as Bareil frowned.

"Yes," the kai said eventually, taking his hand away. "Your pagh doesn't feel quite right. What do you remember of your life there?"

"Not much," Bashir replied. "There's a Klingon on the station right now, this station, I mean, named Worf. I think over there, I know him."

"A Klingon?" Bareil said, raising one eyebrow.

Bashir nodded.

"And a race of people called Romulans who are distantly related to the Vulcans. I don't think I have any children, but I'm pretty sure there's a Jadzia Dax. And a Kira Nerys."

Bareil smiled his gentle smile.

"I'm glad," he said. "I hope the life you have over there is as good as the one you have here."

"I hope so, too," Bashir replied, then looked down at Renzia again. "I'll miss her."

"She'll miss you," Bareil said. "We all will."

The com system interrupted them suddenly.

"Sisko to Bashir."

Bashir shifted the baby's weight and tapped his combadge.

"Bashir here."

"We're ready, Doctor. Report to cargo bay five."

Bashir glanced at Bareil, who nodded.

"On my way," he replied.

He stood and the kai joined him. In silence, they made their way to the cargo bay. His friends were all there waiting: O'Brien, Kira, Odo, Tarses, Jabara, Eddington, and of course, Sisko and Dax. Bashir pulled Dax into a hug and she hugged him back. Then he handed her their daughter.

"Ready?" Sisko asked.

"Ready," Bashir replied with a heavy heart. He turned to his friends and O'Brien clasped his hand, then pulled him into a hug. Kira hugged him as well, and Jabara, and Odo, Tarses and Eddington shook his hand. Sisko was the last to approach him, gripping the doctor's hand and clapping his shoulder.

"Take care of yourself, Julian."

"I will. I'll send the other Julian home safely, too."

Sisko nodded and Bashir stepped into the cargo bay. It was one of the few empty ones, left vacant for ore processing in case they needed extra space, or any other emergency storage needs. Bashir felt small and alone in the empty, echoing bay, and the hiss of the doors as they shut seemed to reverberate all around him.

O'Brien's voice came over the com, filling the void.

"O'Brien to Bashir. We're initializing the gravitational pulse. It shouldn't take too long to pull the anomaly back to us."

"Acknowledged," Bashir replied. He waited what seemed like an eternity until he felt something pulling at him. He stepped toward tug and felt Terok Nor fade behind him. There was nothing for a moment and then Bashir saw someone approaching him.

"Jules?" he said.

"Julian," the other Bashir replied.

He came into view and they both stopped. The other Bashir was wearing the same uniform he had seen in the dream. He saw the same sort of recognition on the other Bashir's face.

"I take it we ended up in the wrong places," the other Bashir said.

"I think so."

"Is there a Dominion over there?" the other Bashir asked, nodding in the direction of Terok Nor.

"Not anymore," Bashir replied. "I take it there's no Trisepat there?"

"Not that your Federation has encountered. I'm sure they're out there." He paused, then took Bashir's hand. "Good luck, Julian."

"And to you, too, Jules."

The other Bashir's lips twitched.

"Only Zia calls me that."

"But not in my life," Bashir sighed, feeling suddenly certain of that. His counterpart nodded, then walked away, leaving Bashir standing by himself. He felt a sudden, burning desire to turn away, to turn his back on his other life and return to Terok Nor. But the retreating form of the other Bashir told him he couldn't do that. It wasn't his life to live. He had to face his own reality, no matter what was in it.

He turned toward his universe and stepped across the threshold.


	9. Epilogue

_3 Years Later…_

Julian Bashir switched off his com screen and sat back in his chair. He rubbed his eyes and looked around his empty quarters. He stood up, stretching, and cracked his stiff back.

"Computer, time," he said.

"The time is nineteen hundred sixteen."

Bashir sighed. He glanced at his com again and ran his hands through his hair. He hardly ever read his journal entries from after he had returned from the alternate universe, because he could no longer remember any of it. The memories had begun to fade immediately after his return, and he had recorded what he could recall, but he knew there was information missing. There hadn't been a Dominion, but he couldn't remember what had been in the Gamma Quadrant in their place. He remembered that Sloan had followed him, and had hoped at first that they had found some way to deal with the Section Thirty-One officer, but true to his deceptive nature, Sloan had turned up again in Bashir's life.

He thought of Jadzia and felt the familiar emptiness in his heart. She had been dead for almost three years now, but not a day went by when he didn't miss her. Ezri Dax had helped fill that hole, but she was her own person. She could not replace Jadzia, nor would Bashir have wanted her to. He couldn't imagine a life without her, either, and the thought of her made him smile. He hadn't been able to remember if there had been an Ezri over there, but he hoped fervently that Jadzia was still alive to be with her husband and raise their daughter. He hoped Ezri had been spared the sudden joining she'd been subjected to here, which had turned her life upside down.

The door chime made him look up.

"Come in!" he called.

The subject of his thoughts, Ezri Dax, stepped into his quarters. He smiled at her and she smiled back, crossing the room. Bashir took her hands and kissed her.

"I'm not intruding, am I?" she asked.

"No," he replied. "I was just reading my journal entries. From the alternate universe."

Ezri nodded, then ran a hand through his hair.

"You still don't remember any of that?" she asked.

"No," he said.

"I wonder what things are like over there for them?"

"I was just thinking the same thing," Bashir replied. "Maybe one day we'll find a way through like we have to that other alternate universe."

"That one would be better than the Alliance one," Ezri said.

Bashir nodded in agreement, then kissed her cheek.

"Ready to go for dinner?" he asked.

"You bet," she replied.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a one-armed hug. All in all, he considered, he had a good life over here. He'd always wonder about the other Bashir, but he had his life, and Bashir had his. Sometimes he thought he might choose differently if he was given the chance, but it was a chance he would not be able to take in good conscience, if it were ever offered to him. This universe, this Starfleet, this station, this Ezri, they were his life. He had no right to exchange that for anything.

* * *

Julian Bashir switched off his com screen and sat back in his chair. He rubbed his eyes and looked around his empty quarters. He stood up, stretching, and cracked his stiff back.

"Computer, time," he said.

"The time is nineteen hundred sixteen."

Bashir sighed. He glanced at his com again and ran his hands through his hair. He hardly ever read his journal entries from after he had returned from the alternate universe, because he could no longer remember any of it; the memories had begun to fade immediately after his return, and he had recorded what he could recall, but he knew there was information missing. There had been a war, but he couldn't remember who the Federation had been fighting, or when or how the Klingon Empire had allied with the Federation.

He wondered occasionally if the other Bashir had ever gotten together with Dax, if he had ever worked up the nerve to sort things out the way he had wanted them. It never failed to make him grateful for what he had: ten years of marriage and a beautiful family he wouldn't trade for anything.

The door hissed open and Bashir looked up. Dax stepped over the threshold, carrying Narye Bashir on one hip. Renzia raced in, throwing herself at her father, wrapping her small arms around Bashir's legs and beaming up at him. Bashir grinned back and scooped her into his arms, covering her face in kisses.

"Hello, darling," he said. "And my other darlings."

Dax grinned at him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. Narye wriggled in her mother's arms, stretching her own arms out to Bashir and he settled his other daughter onto his free hip. He gave her a kiss on the forehead and she made a grab for his hair that he narrowly avoided. She was nine months old now, with a full head of dark, curly hair and hazel eyes. Everyone said she looked like her father, which Bashir found amusing, as there was not a drop of human blood in her. He and Dax had adopted her, an orphaned Trill girl, less than three weeks after she had been born.

"What were you up to?" Dax asked.

"I was reading my journal entries. From the alternate universe."

"You haven't started remembering anything, have you?" she asked.

"No. Have you?"

She shook her head.

"Of course not."

Bashir wasn't surprised; no one actually remembered anymore. The only reason they knew was Bashir had recorded what he could recall, and the station's senior staff had made professional logs about the experiences leading up to bringing the anomaly to the station. Eddington apparently had some personal logs about it, too, but Bashir had never read them. Two years ago, Eddington had been promoted to captain and given command of his own ship. Before leaving, he had told Bashir his personal logs contained some information about Luther Sloan's escape. No trace of him was ever found, and none of the extensive investigations had ever uncovered how he had managed to escape. Bashir and Eddington assumed he'd somehow slipped back through the anomaly before Dax had collapsed it, and returned to his own universe. Starfleet Command had enlisted the help of the Gri'Thethi and the Kbsai in rooting out any remaining Section Thirty-One operatives. Admiral Dukat, now retired, had been in charge of that, but they had found nothing.

"I got a letter from Nerys today," Dax said. "This morning."

"Yes?" Bashir asked, looking up. Kira had moved to Bajor, taking a position at the Federation embassy there, shortly after Bashir had returned. It had been at his suggestion, after she had started suffering headaches and loss of sleep from the stress of being constantly separated from Bareil.

"She's due any day now, and she says she feels like she's going to burst. I told her that was normal."

Bashir grinned at his wife.

"Is she still thinking of coming here to have the baby?"

"I think Antos has convinced her not to," Dax hazarded and Bashir laughed.

"Good. She should be where she's comfortable. And it's only three hours to Bajor; we can easily go visit her."

Dax nodded, taking Narye from her father's arms. Bashir set Renzia down on the floor.

"Want to get started on dinner?" Dax called over her shoulder as she took the baby into their bedroom to change her.

"Will do," Bashir agreed, then crouched down to talk to his oldest daughter. "Why don't you do some colouring while I'm getting supper ready?"

"Can you colour with me?" Renzia asked.

"After we eat," Bashir promised, ruffling her hair, and she giggled, grinning at him. He pushed himself to his feet again and paused for a moment to listen to the sounds of his family living their lives. He had a great life here, and wouldn't have traded it for anything. He would always wonder how that other Bashir was doing, but, given the chance, wouldn't choose to find out. Not if it meant sacrificing what he had here. They had separate lives, and Bashir knew that he wouldn't trade this one for anything in either universe.


End file.
